


I Won't Hurt You

by ishipitsobad



Series: Please Believe Me [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, High School AU, Homophobia, It's Real I Swear, LOTS OF SWEARING AND INSULTS AND JUST, M/M, Marco is a survivor, Modern settings, Panic Attacks, Suicide Attempt, TRIGGER WARNINGSSS, alternate dimension from, but same relationships, emotional traumatization, kind of dark but also really lighthearted i guess??, like serious homophobia, my other fic, physically scarred Marco, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 47,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipitsobad/pseuds/ishipitsobad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reiner Braun is notorious in Trost High School: captain of the football team, pectorals bigger than Connie's face, larger than life personality and flamboyantly gay.</p><p>Bertholdt Fubar is a transfer senior student to Trost High School with a past he is desperate not to let anyone know, and far from Reiner's usual type. But there is someone so ridiculously attractive about this timid, awkward and easily startled six-foot-two giant. So Reiner decides to make him his next target, and his way of courting this new student may break Bertholdt completely, if he isn't careful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here We Go

**Author's Note:**

> SERIOUS HOMOPHOBIA WARNING: do not read if easily offended. I do not mean to offend.

With "SexyBack" blasting from his speakers, Reiner Braun steered his precious baby into the parking lot of Trost High School. His Jeep Wrangler was a fucking monster of a vehicle, and the loud custom paint job he'd gotten it wasn't weakening its presence. Like Reiner frequently liked to say: "Go big, or go home".

He carefully parked it in his usual spot among the area reserved for the seniors; Trost High School had a system for the parking lot. Seniors' lots were reserved closest to the school, then Juniors', then Sophomores' and Freshmen furthest away. It had been a bitch to walk all the way from the back of the parking lot to the school in the dead of winter or peak of summer, but those days were over for Reiner.

Humming along to the chorus of the Justin Timberlake song, he recognised the silver Volvo XC60 next to his baby, and grinned. Some might have said it was the grin of the devil, but that was really Reiner's happy face.

The driver of the XC60 climbed out, and hurried over to the passenger side to open the door, nearly clipping Reiner's Jeep and making him wince. The driver, a lanky but slimly muscled senior with a ash-blond undercut half-hidden by a red knit beanie, helped out his passenger. Reiner's heart always twisted with sympathy whenever he saw him, and this moment was no exception.

Jean Kirschstein, recently-made owner of the XC60 and permanently known for the red beanie that could only be replaced by his football helmet, grabbed his boyfriend's backpack, his normally harsh features gentle.

Marco Bodt would have been a senior like Jean and Reiner, if not for the accident that had occurred a week before finals in their junior year. He had been walking home from school, one of the rare afternoons when Jean had to stay back for extra football practice and had told his boyfriend to just head on home first without him. A mere two blocks away from his house, a pylon truck came careening out of nowhere and slammed into Marco, pinning the then-17 year old to a pole. The driver, a man in his late 50s, had fallen asleep at the wheel and gotten away with a slight concussion, a few scratches and some bruises.

Marco had been pinned to the pole for nearly four hours before the Jaws of Life managed to extricate him and he had been sent in an ambulance to the nearest hospital.

In that one afternoon, he lost his right eye and arm, and remained forever scarred on the right half of his face and upper torso. The surgeons said it had been a miracle that his skull wasn't crushed in, otherwise he'd be dead on the spot. But he had to live with the consequence of someone else's mistake, and it would always show.

Jean was a wreck for the weeks that followed. He never forgave himself for letting Marco go by himself, instead of making him wait as he usually did in the library. He blamed himself for not being able to protect Marco, and according to the latter, he still had nightmares that Marco had not survived that accident. He tried to attack the driver, and had been barely pacified with the sentence that had been meted out by the court.

So now, Jean turned to extremes. He sold his prized Ducati 888 SP5 and got the XC60 instead, insisting that he pick up Marco and drop him off everyday. He spent almost all his free time in Marco's company, and made sure the darker-haired teen never suffered alone. He would have killed the group of juniors in Marco's literature class for taunting Marco for his scars and having to repeat a year, if Reiner and Connie hadn't dragged him off them. They got away with broken noses, multiple contusion and fractured bones. He was so protective, that if anyone so much as glanced  _twice_  at Marco's scars, he'd jump them.

Even now, he slung a protective and possessive arm around Marco's narrow shoulders, and kissed the freckled teen's scarred cheek. Marco always felt embarrassed when Jean touched his scars, and he was ashamed of them, but Jean was adamant and determined to make him see it didn't matter.

It was so sweet, that if they weren't his long-time friends, he would have punched them both.

Instead, he climbed out of his Jeep, locked it, and punched Jean's shoulder.

  "Ow--what the fuck, Braun," Jean grumbled. "It's too early in the morning for this."

  " 'morning, Marco!" Reiner grinned cheerfully. "Have you two had your morning quickie yet?"

  "Reiner!" Marco ducked his head, face turning bright red. It made his scars and freckles stand out even more, but Reiner didn't stare. He knew better.

  "You're in the way of it," Jean pointed out. " _Casse-toi!_ "

  "Jean!" Marco groaned, attempting to his face with his only hand.

  "It's fucking cold," Reiner changed the subject abruptly, and Jean rolled his eyes but couldn't deny it. It was halfway through November, and a quick check this morning told the brawnier blonde that it was 32 degrees Farenheit out. He'd put on extra underwear-- he couldn't risk his Little Reiner freezing and dropping off.

  "Are you wearing two layers of underwear again?" Jean's pale amber eyes narrowed. Marco choked.

  "Yep," Reiner replied blithely. "The Little Man must be kept warm at all costs. Especially at 30 fucking degrees Farenheit."

  " _Wichser_ ," Jean snorted.

  "I'll assume you were calling me 'cute' in German, you bastard," Reiner shot him a shit-eating grin that Jean mirrored.

They walked into the school, and stood out for many different reasons. The less-knowledgeable students like the freshmen and few sophomores whispered and gave shifty, quick glances. Marco, because of his disfiguration and lack of a right arm and eye; Jean because of his aloof but striking features and two-toned hair and bright red beanie; Reiner because everyone knew who Reiner was.

If they wanted to be on the football team and get the girls, they had better suck up to Reiner, or suck his cock. It was no secret that the captain of the football team was gay, or that he had the strongest throwing arm and kick in the county. Besides, even the coach and the principal were gay.

  "What are you staring at?" Jean hissed at a freshman, who turned pale and quickly averted his gaze from Marco's lesions.

  "Easy there, champ," Connie Springer appeared out of nowhere, as he often did. His close-cropped hair was hidden under a winter knit beanie with a pom-pom.

All three friends stared at the pom-pom.

  "Sasha knitted it," Connie mumbled.

  "Um," Marco managed. "It's cute?"

  "Real cute," Reiner unsuccessfully bit back a sneer.

  "That's real fucking supportive of you guys," Connie muttered. "Assholes-- oh shit, Sasha's coming. Watch it, bastar--"

  "Isn't it cute?" Sasha Braus' effusive personality was hard not to smile at, and all four males gave equally awkward grins.

  "Yes," Jean sounded like he was on the verge of laughing.

Sasha huffed. "It is, now shut up and no snide comments about it until next year."

The five of them marched into the building together, and exchanged taunts and insults as was their tradition for every morning. Reiner was talking to Jean about football practice being tentatively cancelled until the temperature got better, and then Sasha turned on them excitedly.

  "I forgot to tell you--"

  "We know you knitted the hat, Sasha. And yes, it's cute. A-plus for effort," Jean smirked.

  "No, you complete douchebag," Sasha scowled prettily. "There's a new transfer student."

  "What?" all four boys goggled at her. It was rare for Trost High to have transfer students, much less this far into the school year.

  "Who's the poor kid?" Connie's brow wrinkled.

Four pairs of eyes landed on him squarely.

  "What? It's a shithole and you all know it," Connie grumbled. "Everyone here is either really gay, or really cool with it, or really good at pretending they don't know who's gay. Plus the only thing good about us is football. _Nobody_ comes here for the academic--"

  "Whatever," Sasha cut him off with an imperial wave of her hand. "The kid's name is Bertholdt Fubar. He's transferring in from Titan Academy."

  "Say  _whaaat?!"_ _  
_

Titan Academy had been the rival of Trost High School for as long as anyone could remember. The Academy was famous for churning out big elites like private bankers, millionaire entrepreneurs, etc. Rumor had it that no one on the enrolment list had a GPA lower than 3.5. Their rivalry was practically legendary, and even the principal, an alumni of Trost High, could still recount with a cold expression the number of conflicts that had risen between the two institutions.

  "Beats me why anyone would want to transfer from there to here," Sasha shrugged at the following onslaught of questions from the four boys. "Why don't you guys ask him yourself? I think Reiner and Jean are in his homeroom."

The two blondes exchanged a look, and Sasha groaned. "Try not to flash your dicks at him by way of greeting."

  "I'm still traumatised for life," Connie shuddered.

  "Wet blanket," Reiner noogied Connie.

* * *

_You'll be fine,_  was Bertholdt's silent chant as he navigated the hallways. Everyone was staring at him.

 _They're not staring at you because they know_ , he had to tell himself.  _You're six feet two, and you're a new face in November. Obviously they're going to stare. Stop being such a--_

_"_ _Faggot!"_

_"Homo fucker!"_

His breath was coming out in short, shallow puffs, and he was feeling light-headed. He was also sweating through his undershirt.

 _Stop it,_ he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, heart pounding so loudly he was certain everyone else could hear it. His brain was kicking into overdrive, and he was clutching at his straws with his consciousness now.  _Nobody here knows. Why would they know? They hate Titan Academy. No one here would talk to anyone back there. So nobody knows about it._

 "...okay? Dude?"

Bertholdt jerked out of his inner panic room, and stared down into bright hazel eyes. The kid couldn't be more than five feet two, but his gaze was strong and the pom-pom on his hat added an extra inch to his height.

  "What? Oh-- yeah," Bertl summoned a smile that came out more like a grimace. "I'm new, sorry."

  "Oh!" the kid's face brightened, and Bertholdt froze.  _He couldn't possibly--_

 "Yo, hey guys!" he called down the hall as Bertholdt struggled with a moment of fight-or-flight and chose flight.

He fled, and the hazel-eyed kid with the pom-pom hat shouted after him.

 

  "...and this is your timetable and your locker number," the woman handed him two slips of paper and peered at him. Her name tag read Ms. Ral, and she had strawberry blond hair and a nice smile. "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine!" Bertholdt said too quickly.

  "The infirmary is on the first floor, left wing," she told him kindly. "Ms. Hanji is the nurse in-charge, and she's very friendly and understanding. Oh! Class is starting in five minutes! Better hurry!"

He smiled weakly and hastened from the office into empty hallways. All the other kids were probably in class.

 _Oh shit,_ Bertl thought as a wave of anxiety ran over him.  _That means I'll be walking into class in front of at least twenty people._

He stopped in front of his homeroom door, and took a deep breath.  _Calm down, Bertl. Nobody knows about it. You're just a new kid, and I'm sure everyone is nice..._

He pushed open the door with more courage than he actually felt, and twenty pairs of eyes swivelled around and locked onto him.  _Okay, maybe this isn't going to be as easy as I thought._

 "And you are...?" a very cool, unfriendly voice asked.

He had to sort of angle his head downwards to look at the homeroom teacher. He was about the same height as the kid Bertholdt had met, the only difference being that this one had sharp, intimidating gray eyes and wore a pressed tracksuit. ( _who presses their tracksuits?_ Bertholdt wondered in a tiny part of his mind)

  "Um..." Bertholdt fumbled. "I-I'm Bertholdt Fubar. I'm the transfer student."

  "Ah," the voice turned slightly icy, and Bertl flinched. "The turncoat. Take a seat. Introductions can come later on your own damn time when you're not fucking late for my class."

Bertl nodded, and took the nearest empty seat, which was right at the front of the class. It was beside a bespectacled kid who gave him a weird look, and Bertl tried not to make eye contact.

  "Moving on," the teacher (Levi Ackerman, Bertholdt read from the timetable he'd been given) continued. "I'm sure many of you are aware of the recent spate of drunk driving incidents."

People started to whisper, and a loud rattling noise from the back shut them all up. Bertl turned slightly to see everyone slinking down in their seats, and a kid with a red beanie giving everyone the fiercest glare he had ever seen.

  "Calm the fuck down, Kirschstein," Mr. Ackerman muttered without heat. "Anyway, if any of you little shits are caught driving under the influence of alcohol, you'll be expelled from school, no questions asked."

Responses varied from whispered protests to quiet acknowledgement.

  "Now do whatever homework you haven't completed yet," Mr. Ackerman snapped, picking up a file from the table. "I know you lot have Trig assignments due in today. Mr. Bozado told me. And Braun, just because you're captain doesn't mean you get to put your fucking feet on the table. Get it off and wipe it down later."

Braun, Berthold assumed, laughed and apologised easily.  Mr. Ackerman grunted and walked out without another word.

Bertholdt felt abandoned.

The class jumped to life around him, and the panic attack Bertholdt had forgotten in place of the fear Mr. Ackerman had instilled in that one sharp glance returned with a vengeance. Voices and people and laughter rose up around him like a fog he couldn't fight and he found himself slouching deeper as if he could escape them that way. His breathing was turning into uneven pants, and sweat trickled down his temple. He had no doubt that if he took off his V-neck navy sweater, he'd find that he'd sweated through the 'pits of his plaid button-down.

 _You're here to make new friends,_ Bertholdt told himself.  _Friends who don't know that you're a--_

 "Fag!"

He couldn't breathe. Slowly, he turned around while his heart hammered wildly against his chest.  _There was no way..._

The one who had said the insult appeared to be caught in a headlock, and was laughing while an impossibly muscular and blond guy gave him a noogie.

  "If you're going to call me out on my sexuality," the blond guy drawled, ignoring his victim's guffawed protests. "At least call me 'fabulous'."

He looked up, and looked straight at Bertl.

  "Oh, hey," the blond guy gave a short wave and a wide grin that Bertl assumed was meant to be friendly. "Bertholdt, right?"

  "Wh-wha-how did you know my name?" Bertholdt gasped, his heart rate still going fast from the panic attack.

  "Word travels fast around here," the blond guy shrugged.

Bertl careened into full-panic mode.  _What? Then-then-then that means they might already know--_

  "Okay, not really," the blond guy slalomed his way towards Bertl and perched on the desk beside his. "Sasha just has a nose for more than food and mouth big enough to put ten fucking potatoes inside."

  "Poetic," another kid came wandering up, and leaned his elbow on the blond guy's shoulder. It was the kid with the red beanie who had shut everyone up. He had tousled ash-blond hair styled in an undercut, and the hair at the back running down to his nape was a dark brown from what Bertl could see. He also had a helix, lobe, eyebrow piercing and when he spoke, Bertl caught a flash of silver that indicated a tongue piercing. His eyes were pale amber, and he had a very keen gaze. "I'm Jean. Jean Kirschstein."

  "You're supposed to be my wingman, asshole," the blond muscle-y guy muttered and gave Bertl a sheepish grin. "I'm Reiner Braun. Captain of the football team and--"

  "King of all gays," Jean rolled his eyes.

Bertl stiffened, and the slight reaction didn't go unnoticed. Both boys' gaze hardened.

  "Conservative upbringing?" Jean asked coolly.

  "What?" Bertl was startled. "N-no! I-I-I'm just surprised you guys throw those kind of words around so openly."

  "We're both gay," Reiner shrugged. "But definitely not for each other. Jean's sweetheart is a cutie-pie in junior year."

Jean's self-satisfied smirk reaffirmed this, and Bertl's eyes went wide. "Wait, you're both actually..."

  "Homosexual?" Jean arched a thin eyebrow, and the piercing moved with it. "Bingo. If you've got anything against it, you might wanna stay the fuck out of our way."

  "N-no!" Bertholdt squeaked, unsure of whether to be relieved or frightened. "I'm okay with it. Really."

  "You don't have to say that just to stop Jean from punching you," Reiner said, not unkindly. "Everyone has their own set of values. Some of us, eh, maybe not at all."

  "Speak for yourself," Jean muttered.

  "No, really," Bertholdt put in quickly. "I'm okay with it."

They looked at him long and hard, and he thought he was going to sweat all the way through his sweater, until the bell rang.

  "Well, you can come for practice afterwards and try out if you want," Reiner offered, giving him that sort-of-friendly(?) grin again. "You look fairly fit for someone who dresses like a complete nerd."

Bertl took mild offence at that, but was too scared to say anything.

  " _Fils de pute_ ," Jean growled at Reiner. "You just told me this morning that training was cancelled."

  "I said tentatively," Reiner reminded him as they walked away. The conversation faded as they moved farther away, and Bertl let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

He'd survived the first hour of school.

 

 

 


	2. You Don't Know Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner tries to be friendly, but the more he does, the more Bertl draws back because he's afraid. Afraid of what? He doesn't know exactly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my dearest anon, I am so, so sorry but there is much more JeanMarco in this chapter than ReiBert because I need to build Bertholdt-Marco dynamics and I want them to be best friends (I have a mighty need for this thanks to tumblr users misterfreckle's kie and askthebertl's nene)!!

  "...class dismissed," Mr. Zacharius waved a hand at the students, who were already filing away their books and notes into their bags and climbing out of their seats. "Don't forget that your write-up on the frog you dissected last week is due in three days! Any late submissions won't be entertained, you hear?"

  "Um, sir..." Bertl came forward to the front of the class, shifting his feet awkwardly.

  "The transfer student, right?" Mr. Zacharius gave him a quick once-over and a cursory sniff that Bertl didn't know what to make of. "You use too much deodorant. And you're sweating an awful lot. Might wanna get checked out at the infirmary for gland issues."

  "What?" Bertl's eyes widened.

  "Sorry, sorry," the teacher rubbed the back of his neck, grinning abashedly. "Can't help it. Sensitive nose. Anyway, you don't have to hand in the write-up, if that's what you're going to ask. You weren't present for the dissection, fortunately for you."

  "Uh...?"

  "Two students puked, another fainted, and someone freaked out over holding a frog's internal organs and flung it across the room and it landed on some poor kid's face. That's the one who fainted, by the way."

  "Right..." Bertholdt mumbled. "Actually, I came to ask you about your theory that you published. Something about the possibility of fear being palpable, I think..."

  "Oh!" the teacher paused in the act of taking a swig of water. "You read it?"

  "Sort of," Bertholdt ducked is head shyly. "It was pretty good."  _Not to mention a little too accurately applicable in my case_...

  "Ms. Hanji helped me write it up," Mr. Zacharius shrugged, but the younger could tell he was gratified. "She's the school nurse."

  "Do you really think that people can actually scent out fear and then by instinct automatically target the frightened?" Bertholdt wanted to know.

  "I think that people who are stronger and generally predators by physique are more naturally inclined and likely to target the weak and can single them out by the way they give off fear pheromones, which can be recognised by your sense of smell," the older man sat on the edge of the battered desk at the front of the classroom. "It's just a theory, though. Why?"

  "No, just curious," Bertholdt averted his gaze.

  "Your physique seems more like the predator type, though," Mr. Zacharius said thoughtfully. "Tall, muscular, dominating."

_Not even close._

Bertholdt gave an awkward laugh. "Right. I should be going, though. I have a class."  _Did study period qualify as a class_? _  
_

He quickly made his way out, and the teacher stared after him.

  "Weird kid," Mike Zacharius shrugged, and took another swig of water.

 

  "Way to be unfriendly, Kirschstein," Reiner grumbled as he and the teen in question walked down the corridor to fifth period. They shared almost every class, which could sometimes turn out for the worse. 

Students made way for them almost automatically, mostly because of Reiner was a face well-known, and Jean had a terrifyingly strong presence that could be sensed from a street away.

  "You know I don't deal well with homophobes," Jean rubbed his nose. "Especially since--"

  "Yeah, I know," Reiner rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Doesn't mean you have to go all ice and rocks on the new kid. I thought he was going to pee his pants, or worse, sweat a hole through his sweater."

  "Hang on," Jean's phone vibrated in his butt pocket (Reiner always commended Jean for having a  _very_ fine ass, and usually received a dirty look by way of reply) and he took it out. "Marco's got study period now." _  
_

"Oh no," Reiner grabbed his arm, a warning look spreading over his face. "You are _not_ ditching class to go shag his Freckled Fairness in the library."

  "I wasn't going to," the shifty look in Jean's eyes gave it away, and Reiner tightened his grip. "Okay, fine. Five minutes wouldn't hurt."

  "How do you have sex in five minutes?" Reiner's brow wrinkled, and Jean saw his guard slip for the tiniest of seconds, and made a break for it. "Wha-wait!  _Jean_!"

The red beanie-toting youth sprinted away, hollering over his shoulder: "Cover for me!"

  " _Bastard_ ," Reiner hissed, hiking the strap of his backpack higher up his broad shoulder. Mrs. Nanaba was  _not_ going to take this kindly.

He trudged down the hallway and rounded the corner, promptly slamming into a tall and familiar wall.

  "S-sorry!" Bertholdt scrambled to pick up his books, which had gone flying in every direction. Reiner briefly wondered why he was apologising when he was the one who had suffered the brunt of the collision.

  "Here, let me help you," a quick check of the time told him he had three minutes before Mrs. Nanaba roasted the Little Man.

  "N-no!" the taller kid hastily grabbed his books and piled them haphazardly into the crook of his arm. "I'm fine!"

  "You sure?" Reiner unthinkingly straightened his collar and jerked his sweater straight. He froze in the act of brushing eraser dust from the taller one's fringe.

  "Uh, yes...?"

  "Sorry," Reiner shrugged self-consciously, retracting his hand. "I've got younger siblings. Force of habit."

  "Oh," Bertholdt's frightened gaze softened fractionally. "That's nice."

  “That’s what you think,” Reiner snorted. “The little monsters range from ages 5 to 14. Say that again when one is screaming the house down for you to play with him when you have finals and the another one is stealing all your clothes because she wants her boyfriend to get jealous by thinking she’s wearing another guy’s hoodie.”

  “That sounds _very_ nice,” Bertholdt couldn’t hold back a chuckle, and Reiner was facsinated by the way his face, normally so guarded and nervous and frightened like a deer caught in the headlights, just relaxed and lit up.

  “You should meet them,” Reiner said without thinking.

  “What?”

The bell rang, and Reiner’s eyes widened. Mrs. Nanaba. The Little Man.

  “Sorry, gotta go!” Reiner waved. “See you around, Bertl!”

* * *

 

  "Jean, stop that..." Marco shivered as Jean licked his earlobe. Well, the only earlobe he had left. The metal piercing on Jean's tongue wasn't helping the warm sensation curling in his abdomen. "This is the library."

  "It's empty," Jean murmured, caressing the ear with his lips. "Which brings me to my question..."

He sat back on the chair beside Marco, and it squeaked. The noise echoed uncomfortably loudly in the library, vacant except for Marco and the librarian, who never seemed to notice anyone or anything unless things got really noisy. Her head was buried in a book, and she was behind the corner of a couple of bookshelves, so Jean figured he could make out with Marco here and get away scot-free.

Except Marco had claimed it was study period, and if it was as he said, then why wasn't anyone else here? Normally there'd be at least a couple of friendless geeks seeking refuge here.

Jean narrowed his gaze at his boyfriend, who couldn't meet it. "Marco, is it really study period for you right now?"

  "Y-yes..."

  "You suck at lying,  _mon chéri_ ," Jean's lips quirked up in a humourless grin. "Tell me the truth."

Marco swallowed visibly. He struggled against telling Jean the truth, which was that in Literature class, which he was supposed to be having right now, there were these three boys who always made fun of his ugly defacement and lack of eye and limb. They would spit balls at the back of his head, or slip across notes that had really mean, awful things scrawled on them, and threatened that if he ever told on them, they'd make him sorrier than he already was.

  "Marco..." Jean cupped his face, staring him dead on in his one, chocolate-brown eye that always reminded Jean of what his mother used to say about eyes of a doe.  _Doux, naïf._

  "It's really study period," Marco said earnestly. "I'm serious!"

  "Babe," Jean rarely used English slang for endearment, and it signified that he was fast losing patience. Marco frantically tried to come up with an excuse.

  "I just don't feel like going for Literature," Marco said lamely.

Jean's eyebrow went up, and the silver piercing in it glinted as it caught the light, doubling the effect of his cynical expression. "Really?  _You_ don't feel like going for Literature? That's like saying Reiner doesn't feel up for banging someone in the ass."

  "Speaking of which," Marco quickly grabbed at the lifeline. "Don't you have class?"

  "Nanaba," Jean grimaced, thoughts swerving in that direction as Marco had planned. "Shit."

  "Go," Marco shooed. "I'll be here till lunch. Come find me then."

  "Okay, but first..."

Jean leaned in and Marco's one good eye fluttered shut as he felt Jean's lips on his, warm and soft and everything comforting and familiar. It fit against his with perfect clarity, every contour, and when Jean slipped his tongue inside Marco's mouth, forcing it open and running that piercing against the roof of Marco's mouth, he could barely hold back a moan. Jean's hand was hot on his neck, and his fingers clad in cold silver rings massaged the nape of it and pulled him closer towards Jean, who angled his head and began to suckle on Marco's tongue with intense passion.

Stars were exploding behind Marco's closed eyelid, and that warm curling sensation in his abdomen was growing uncomfortably hotter. If Jean kept on suckling at his tongue and nibbling at his lower lip like that he was going to--

A loud crash and the sound of someone making a startled choking noise had them jumping apart, a thin strand of saliva still connecting them at the lips.

A  _very_ tall kid in a navy blue V-neck sweater that Marco couldn't help admiring despite his awkward surprise at being caught making out, was sweating nervously and had turned bright red. His books were scattered all over the floor, and a pen rolled away under a desk.

  "Bertholdt, right?" Jean spoke first, his voice chilly. Marco couldn't help elbowing him; it wasn't the poor kid's fault that he'd happened to walk in on them like that.

  "S-sorry, I'll go s-ouch!" Bertholdt bit his tongue, and Marco had to laugh.

  "No, I'm sorry," Marco decided to end the hapless teenager's misery, and shoved Jean towards the direction of the doors. "Jean's not even supposed to be here, and we're definitely  _not_ supposed to be making out in the library."

  "Be careful,  _chéri_ ," Jean warned in a low voice. "This kid might be homophobic. Text me if he starts on you."

Marco glanced back at Bertholdt, who was still scrambling for his things and comically banged his head on the desk when he tried to grab his pen. "Him? I don't think so."

Jean muttered something like " _naïve"_ and pecked Marco's scarred-up cheek before walking off, hands in his jeans pockets. Marco had found sixty-three cents in the back pocket just the other day, and the memory made him smile.

He decided to turn the good mood on the awkward giant of a transfer student, who obviously had jumped headfirst into Trost High without knowing the going-ons or the way the school worked.

  "You're Bertholdt, right?" Marco asked, keeping his voice light and friendly.

Bertholdt looked up sharply, then ducked his head again. "Y-yeah."

  "I'm Marco," Marco offered his hand. "Marco Bodt."

  "Bertholdt Fubar," the kid had to be at least six feet two, Marco noted, but he looked like he wanted to be a tenth of that.

  "Sorry about just now," Marco patted the spot opposite him. "Jean's a little... clingy, I guess. Here, take a seat. You're having study period now?"

  "Mm-hm," Bertholdt slid into the seat with as much grace as he could manage; he banged his hip against the edge of the table, and winced.

  "Never grew out of the awkward phase, I take it?" Marco's question was so light-hearted that it couldn't come off as an insult even if he tried.

  "No," Bertholdt rubbed the back of his less-sweaty neck. "Not really."

 _Man of a few words_ , Marco noted. He also noticed that Bertholdt never really made eye contact with him, maybe because he'd heard of Jean's temper. The freckled youth gave a wry smile. He appreciated the gesture, and the protectiveness and the affection, but it was a really big inconvenience to make friends when the other party couldn't make eye contact.

  "I won't tell Jean if you stare at my scars," Marco stage-whispered. "Promise."

  "Wh-what?" Bertholdt startled, dropping his pen again. "I-I'm not avoiding looking at your scars, if that's what you mean. I'm just..."

  "Shy?" Marco supplied.

  "Socially awkward," Bertholdt mumbled, grabbing his pen and barely grazing his head against the edge of the table.

  "Well," Marco turned up the wattage on his smile. Half his face was disfigured, and the other half of his lips were usually set into a downward scowl, so the effect wasn't as pretty as Marco wished. "Everyone around here is mostly nice people. Jean can come off a little aloof and hard to get along with, but he's really just a big dork."

Bertholdt couldn't help the smile. They really did love each other. It showed in the way Marco talked about him.

  "Since you're in Jean's homeroom, I guess that means you've met Reiner, then?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "What do you think of him?"

  "Wh-what?"

  "Reiner can be a little overbearing," Marco patted Bertholdt's hand, and silently noticed how badly his palms were sweating. Wow. The kid sweat heck of a lot. No wonder he was so lanky for someone so big. "and inappropriate sometimes, but he means well."

  "He invited me for practice later," Bertholdt bit his lip.

  "That must means he likes you to some extent," Marco chuckled. "If Reiner doesn't like you, he'll be polite, but that's the end of it. If he does like you, you'll hear a lot of crude jokes about dicks and butts and stuff."

Bertholdt managed to ward off the flash of anxiety that threatened his sweat glands to sweat him a new layer. It didn't go unnoticed by Marco, the way the much-taller youth stiffened ever so slightly and eyes darted away.

  "Anyway," Marco subtly changed the topic. He didn't want to make his new friend uncomfortable. Or, well, anymore uncomfortable than he already was. "What are you studying?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEFINITELY more ReiBert next chapter... or at least more juice on Rei-Rei. Also introducing the other characters like Jaeger and Levi/Erwin couple!  
> (did I mention today is the first day of my test weeks?? Please pray me well!)


	3. Why Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt and Marco are friends, and take up Reiner's invitation to practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Nene Kantoku, queen of ReiBert, master of the askthebertl blog, genius artist and sweetheart all-around as manager of the Wings of Freedom football team!

Reiner splashed water on his face, sending droplets scattering all over the sink area and running down the front of his shirt. He gripped the edge of the porcelain basin, and gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror.

A fucking sexy man stared back.

He had his father's brilliantly vivid golden eyes (there was no other colour to describe the intense shade) and strong, masculine features. In fact, the only trait he had inherited from his mother was her fair colouring and caring personality traits. He was literally the whole team's damned babysitter: he had to make sure each and every one of them stayed hydrated during training and matches, ascertaining that everyone followed safety guidelines and didn't push themselves too hard (particularly Eren, whose passionate hatred of the Titans frequently prompted him to lift more than he actually could) and just generally taking care of their wellbeing.

So why wasn't this good-looking son of a bitch with a great personality getting laid?

He scrubbed his face once more time, then dried it and headed back to the gym, where everyone was doing strength-resistance training. He passed by a few teammates doing standing leg curls, but not without correcting their position and telling them to keep going, they were doing great. Connie put down the weights and caught the refilled bottle Reiner tossed at him.

  "Thanks, man," Connie took a long drink and gave a contented sigh. Despite his skinny frame, he as actually fairly muscular. It was just a pity that they only showed when he flexed.

  "What're you lifting?" Reiner peered at the number of weights. The nearly-bald kid was lifting barely more than his own weight, and Reiner had to smile.

  "Nene wants to talk to you," Connie jerked a thumb at their team manager, who co-penned their schedules and training regimes with their coach. Well, actually, she penned most of it since their coach was usually busy having sex with their principal in his office.

It was walking in on their lovemaking that had given Reiner the courage to come out to everyone in school. His family had taken the news of his sexuality with understandable shock, but they preferred to avoid talking about it altogether. Reiner assumed that meant that they were taking it in stride, but they were just uncomfortable about it.

Nene Kantoku was a Japanese girl who had transferred to Trost in sophomore year for family reasons. She was an Oriental beauty, with a silky mane of brown hair that could rival Sasha's and a sweet, open personality (and a smile to match) that rivalled Krista's. Almost all the guys in school (the ones who weren't gay) tried to hit on her, but then she revealed a side of her after Reiner came out and broke all their hearts.

She was, according to her native culture, something called a "foo-joe-shee" ( _fujoshi_ ).

Reiner still didn't quite understand what that meant, or why that had broken so many hearts, but then Jean, who was more knowledgeable on global cultures, just shrugged and told Reiner that it meant Nene was more interested in boys kissing each other than kissing boys herself.

  "Nene, what's up?" he strode over and fairly towered over her. He was just over 6 feet tall, and she was of Asian descent, which meant she was fairly diminutive by comparison.

She turned around, and drew herself up to her full height in an attempt to dominate. It was cute, really, what with her white tracksuit with its Trost 104th Football Squad emblem on her chest and back, and her hair pulled back in a high bun.

  "Did you go for that blind date?" her eyes narrowed.

Reiner internally groaned.

  "Nene, I thought I told you I didn't want you to set me up--"

  "But he was perfect for you!" she whined.

  "Let me be the judge of that next time when you go trawling on grindr for my potential boyfriend," Reiner said dryly.

  "Just trying to be helpful," she muttered, darting a glance at Eren and Jean, who were already dating boyfriends of their own. Then she seemed to recall something more important, and gave him a much fiercer glare, one that Reiner had learn to be slightly fearful of. "By the way, what's this I hear about you inviting someone to training without my permission?"

  "It's the transfer kid," Reiner mumbled. "I just thought he could use a friend--"

  "You don't make friends by inviting them to the training of the Wings of Freedom squad," she scolded, and some people turned to look, amused by the sight of their muscular 6-feet-tall captain being lectured by their pixie-by-comparison manager. "Do that on your own time. Is that him?"

Reiner turned to look, and saw Bertholdt being tugged along by Marco. Bertholdt was bright red (Reiner was beginning to see that as his standard complexion colour) and sweating profusely, while Marco was making insistent noises as he smiled angelically. Or as much as someone whose face was half-mauled into a permanent frown could be angelic.

  "Yeah," Reiner heard his own voice softening as he looked at Bertholdt, and Nene, curse her sensitive ears, didn't miss a thing.

  "That's your type?" Nene gaped. "I thought you were more into Armin's or Marco's type!"

Eren perked up at the mention of Armin's name, and shot his captain a vicious look. "What do you mean, Armin's type?"

Reiner rolled his eyes skyward for patience. "Just shut up and keep pulling those weights, Jaeger."

  "He's kind of cute, I guess," Nene ignored Eren's outburst entirely, as she was wont to do when she was zeroing in on something. "Maybe if we got him naked..."

  "Nene, you're not getting anyone naked," Reiner cringed. The last time Nene got someone naked, she traumatised the poor would-be linebacker for life. Even now, he flinched in fear when he saw her in the hallways.

  "What's his name?"

  "Bertholdt Fubar. Be nice."

  "Sounds like burrito," she murmured, and Reiner choked.

  "Could you stop that?" he gasped between wheezing peals of laughter.

  "Why,  _weiner_?" she smirked up at him. "Gonna stick yourself into his  _burrit-hole_?"

He made a heroic, useless attempt to swallow his snort.

  "Just shut up, Nene," Reiner coughed for air. "And don't do anything stupid."

  "Rude," she sniffed.

* * *

 

Over the course of a few hours and a cup of hot chocolate at a nearby café, Bertholdt had come to relax around Marco. The banged-up, freckled individual was genuinely sincere in wanting to be Bertholdt's friend, and the cumbersome giant had even laughed at some of his stories.

Marco considered that real progress.

  "Reiner invited you to training, right?" Marco tugged at Bertholdt's arm, and the six-foot-two male didn't have the heart to wrench his arm from the smaller one's grip, as much as he was panicking to do so on the inside. "Then come on!"

  "But what if--"

  "No what ifs," Marco said sternly. "Just go! Everyone on the team is nice, like I said. Don't worry so much."

  "Bertl?"

Bertholdt froze.

Reiner was wearing a tank top that if you looked a little closer, showed his nipples.  _Why did I have to notice that, of all things,_  was Bertholdt's internal scream of anguish.The brawny blonde was perspiring, and a dark triangle of sweat had seeped its way through the thin cotton material on his chest. His hair was sticking up a little at the front, probably because he'd run a hair through it. His expression was open, and welcoming and genuinely genial. Bertholdt relaxed just the slightest bit, until Marco abandoned him to run over to his boyfriend, who put down his weights and picked him up in a kiss.

 _Marcooooooo_ , Bertholdt's eyes reflected his inner consternation.

  "Relax, Bertl," Reiner chuckled, seeing the fright in the poor guy's face. "We don't bite. Hard. Come meet the team."

He indicated that Bertholdt should follow, and he did, hunching his shoulders forward as if he wished he could disappear (he seriously wished he could) into the ground as members of the football team looked up in curiosity. None of them recognised him, and that was some consolation.

  "This angelic-looking demon," Reiner drawled, waving his hand at an Asian girl with pretty brown hair and the features of an Oriental elfin princess. "is Nene Kantoku, our manager. She handles our training regimes, our schedules, our match transportation."

  "And Reiner's love life," she added, her voice reminding Bertholdt of pealing bells in the wind, and the twinkle of mischief in her eyes made Bertholdt smile just a fraction. She gave Bertholdt a once-over, then grinned even wider. "Would you like to be a part of it, Burrito?"

Everyone who was eavesdropping (which was everyone in the room except Jean and Marco, too busy making out in the corner) couldn't stifle their chokes or snorts or gasps of hysterical laughter.

  "Uh," Bertholdt began sweating even more. His clothes probably stank to high heaven by now, but thankfully the smell of perspiration and old gym socks in the room clouded it out.

  "Nene," Reiner couldn't quite hold back his own mirth. "I thought I told you not to do anything stupid."

She shrugged. "I think he's cute."

  "I do, too," Reiner said without thinking, and was surprised by his own admission.

Bertholdt glanced at him, even more surprised.

  "Great!" Nene clapped her hands, and an expression Reiner had learned to avoid came over her face. " _Now kiss_."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TEEHEE.


	4. Take It Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt meets the Brauns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished my first day of test! Have a treat on me because it went really well! (Praise the Lord and thank you everyone who prayed me well)

  "Sorry about Nene," Reiner exhaled, and his breath turned into white mist as he and Bertholdt exited the school building into the wintry late evening. "She's a little overwhelming but she means well."

  "She's pretty," Bertholdt mumbled, his words muffled by the black scarf he wound around his neck up to his nose.

  "Yeah," Reiner gave a small laugh. "And also very into shipping gay guys together. She used to have like half the school's boys trying to ask her out."

  "Thanks for introducing me to everyone," Bertholdt flashed him a quick, tiny smile.

Reiner had to literally swallow the urge to hug him. He was like some gigantic, fluffy black bunny with green eyes that was eternally petrified and when he let his guard down he was just  _fucking adorable_.

  "It's cool," Reiner shrugged. "Where do you live anyway?"

  "Uh, on Shinganshina Avenue," Bertholdt nearly tripped over his own feet, and Reiner's arm shot out to steady him. "Why?"

Reiner stared at him, disbelieving. "Which house?"

  "No. 3."

  "I live on Shinganshina Avenue," Reiner said slowly. "No.2. So that was your family moving in last week?"

Bertholdt stiffened and his nervous eyes went wide in full-panic.

  "Dude, calm down," Reiner was quick to soothe. "What's wrong with being neighbours? I actually think it's pretty cool! I can give you a ride to and from school, if you want."

  "R-really?" Bertholdt was turning red again, but this time he wasn't sweating. Probably because it was fucking cold as the tenth circle of Hell and if Reiner didn't get into his Jeep and turn up the heater, the Little Man could say bye-bye.

  "Yeah, sure," Reiner jerked his shoulder and took out his car keys, stopping in front of his baby. "No big deal."

Bertholdt stared at Reiner's Jeep. He couldn't blame the guy; after all, it was a flashy red and built like a monster truck, only with less lights and half the metal fixtures. "This is your car?"

  "My dad paid the down payment for it," Reiner unlocked it and climbed in, indicating that Bertholdt get into the shotgun seat. "I paid the installments and for the paint job. Not bad, huh?"

  "It's awesome!" Bertholdt breathed, running a hand over the bonnet and climbing in.

  "Thanks," Reiner's chest puffed out a little and he felt a wave of gratified pleasure sweep over him. "Hey, do you wanna come by my house and meet the Brauns?"

  "W-what?"

  "Well, you did say having many siblings aged 5 to 14 was 'nice'," Reiner put heavy sarcasm on the adjective Bertholdt had used. "Time to walk the talk,  _burrito_."

Bertholdt cringed at the nickname, and the rugged blonde laughed. "Nicknames are Nene's specialty. Don't take it too seriously."

  "Um, okay," Bertholdt slid down in his seat, face growing a pretty shade of pink.

The drive to Reiner's house took about 20 minutes, and Reiner cranked up the stereo. Bertholdt's pink face went absolutely scarlet when Justin Timberlake practically moaned-slashed-crooned that he was bringing sexy back.

  "Don't like?" Reiner asked, darting a sideways glance at him as he manuevered through the heavy traffic of students and adults alike going home at 6 in the evening.

  "N-no," Bertholdt said quickly. "It's okay. My mom used to say the ones driving got to pick the music."

A car honked them loudly from behind, and then a silver Volvo five-seater that nearly rivalled Reiner's Jeep in size pulled up alongside them. The windows were rolled down, and Bertholdt recognised Jean and Marco.

  "You're moving slower than an 80 year old grandma driving a five-speed with a broken arm," Jean shouted over the noise of traffic. Marco looked appropriately mortified on his boyfriend's behalf.

Reiner just lazily flashed him the bird, and drove on past them.

  "S-so," Bertholdt stammered. "Jean and Marco..."

Reiner sighed, and figured Bertholdt had a right to know. "Marco didn't tell you, huh?"

  "No, but it's okay if--"

  "It's fine," Reiner shrugged, turning on to Shinganshina Avenue. "Since Marco's now your friend and everything, I just figured he'd tell you. And it's not like Jean would decapitate you if you knew the reason why he looks the way he is."

Reiner briefly told Bertholdt the story behind Marco's scars and lack of appendages. "...and so now Jean gives Marco a lift everywhere, never mind that Jean lives on Rose Street and Marco on Ares Road."

  "Are those places very far apart...?"

Reiner burst out laughing. "Right, forgot you're new around these parts. Ares Road is about 20 minutes west from school by foot. Rose Street is a solid 30 minutes away by  _car_ , and that's not including traffic conditions. Add on the fact that there's usually a jam during peak hours in Lower Maria Avenue, which you have to go through to get to Ares Road. That means Jean has to wake up at least an hour and a half before school to pick up Marco and get them both to school on time."

  "Wow," Bertholdt was amazed, and touched, by Jean's dedication.

  "Yeah," Reiner understood how Bertholdt felt as he steered the car into the driveway of No.2. He just wished that one day he could have that same kind of powerful love for someone.

* * *

 

_"Rei-Rei!"_

Reiner caught the tiny human bean before it collided face first into his pelvic bone. "Tomas, what did I tell you about--"

  "Play with me!" the five-year old proudly sported a gap where his front teeth should be and stretched his arms up at Reiner.

The cornflower blue-eyed youngling was duly picked up and plopped on Reiner's hip, where he got his nose booped by Reiner's thick index finger. "Did the tooth fairy come?"

  "Yeah!" Tomas nodded his head eagerly, and the blond hair that he and Reiner shared got in Reiner's face. He needed a haircut, and soon. "They left me like five dollars!"

He waved two dollars in Reiner's face, and the older one internally groaned at the idea of having to teach him math again. "Tomas, meet Bertl."

Tomas peered at Bertholdt over Reiner's shoulder and was initially terrified by how tall he was, until he noticed the intensely nervous and uncomfortable expression on Bertholdt's face. Plus the fact that he was sweating along. He grinned widely, his sunny gap-toothed grin making Bertholdt smile back weakly.

  "Here, climb on him," Reiner practically threw Tomas at Bertholdt, who half-shrieked as he barely managed to catch the small person. The latter nimbly climbed onto Bertholdt's shoulders, and he had to grab the small ankles before he fell off.

  "Look! Look, Rei-Rei!" Tomas shouted. "I can touch the ceiling!"

  "Wash your hands later," Reiner reminded him. "We don't clean the ceiling."

  "Yucks," Tomas' face screwed up in disgust as he realised his hands were all covered in dust where they had touched the ceiling. "We should."

Bertholdt couldn't help chuckling, and Reiner watched him do that out of the corner of his eye. It was a sight to behold, and one to treasure, how Bertholdt's entire face just  _relaxed_ and lost its tense, worried lines.

  "Tomas," Reiner caught the five-year old's attention. "Where's Berwick?"

  "Berwick's upstairs, in his room," the child was more interested in drawing patterns into the layer of dust on the ceilings. "He and Hannah were fighting just now."

  "Berwick's a strange name," Bertholdt murmured.

  "So's Bertholdt," Reiner shot him a smirk. "But no one's complaining, right,  _burrito_?"

The muscular blond walked towards the kitchen, and Tomas, now tired of the ceiling, began kicking his heels against Bertholdt's chest and yanking at his hair, yelling: "Go burrito!"

  "Hey, mom," Reiner ducked down to kiss a petite, fair woman with pale blond hair that matched Tomas' and Reiner's perfectly. She turned around, and Bertholdt saw her eyes were a lovely shade of blue. Which meant Reiner must get his preternatural gold eyes from his father. "How was work today?"

  "Terrible, as usual," Mrs. Braun wrinkled her nose and then laughed. "But that's the way it is. And is this a friend of yours?"

  "New transfer student," Reiner smiled at Bertholdt, who blushed. "Bertholdt Fubar. I invited him over to meet the gang. He thought the idea of having many younger siblings was 'nice'."

  "You must be an only child," Mrs. Braun sighed enviously. "This brood would've made my hair gone grey years ago if not for Reiner here. He's the live-in babysitter."

  "Thanks," Reiner said dryly. "By the way, what's this I hear about Bertwick and Hannah fighting?  _Again_?"

  "I think Hannah ate Bertwick's last peach yoghurt," Mrs. Braun frowned. "I couldn't quite tell from the way those two were carrying on. But you know how Bertwick is about his peach yoghurt. It's the only flavour he eats."

  "Right," Reiner kissed the top of his mom's head, a gesture Bertholdt thought awfully sweet. "I'll go play peacemaker."

  "Careful," Mrs. Braun called out after them as they climbed the stairs and headed for the room Bertwick shared with Tomas. "Don't lose an eye."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!:) Did any of you managed to pick up on anything? *wiggles eyebrows ferociously*
> 
> (note: I cannot update this fic until Kie of the misterfreckles tumblr replies my ask. And yes, it is relevant to the fic!)


	5. Play With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt is witness to a Braun sibling fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So nenekantoku and misterfreckle have commented/mentioned this fic and I woke up to it this morning and spent fifteen minutes paralysed with excitement and just being very very happy.
> 
> As promised, here is the next chapter and introducing Kie... as...?
> 
> (this one will be fairly short because I have tests in like four hours)

  "Tomas, did you or Berwick clean up your room after this morning?" Reiner's hand paused on the doorknob, and he raised an eyebrow at the tiniest Braun.

  "No!" Tomas pumped his fists up in the air like it was something to be proud of, and punched the ceiling by accident.

  "Might wanna watch your step," Reiner muttered to Bertholdt under his breath as he pushed the door open. "Berwick?"

Bertholdt's eyes had to adjust to see in the dark, and what awaited him was a scene of carnage: toys (varying from toy soldiers to action figures to miniature models of vehicles) lay scattered everywhere like claymore mines waiting to go off under your feet lest you tread on them, clothes were tossed around like corpses and casualties of the war, and in the midst of it all, was a lump on a youth bed.

Correction: it was Reiner's other little brother.

Reiner gingerly stepped over the minefield, and nearly cursed when his foot was an unwary victim of a toy soldier's bayonet. He took a deep breath to set aside his impatience at the state of the room, and rubbed the lump on the bed. "Berwick?"

The blanket hiding the lump flew off, and a ten-year old with contrasting black hair to Reiner's blonde but similar striking (and watery) gold eyes launched himself at the oldest Braun sibling.

  "Hannah-- _sniff--_ Hannah ate my yoghurt!" Berwick Braun howled and sobbed all over his big brother, clutching at his shirt in a frenzy of tears.

  "Thought so," Reiner sighed, and held the kid to him as he sat down on the youth bed, which was comically small beneath him. "And what happened?"

  "I called Hannah a bitch," Berwick sniffled. Reiner choked and Bertholdt's eyes popped to the size of a UFO.

  "Where did you hear that word from?" Reiner demanded.

Berwick was taken aback by the heat in his brother's voice, and began to wail in fear of a reprimand.

  "Berwick..." Reiner groaned, patting the small individual's back. He was like a quarter of Reiner's size, and he fit like a big teddy bear in the blonde's arms. "You can't go around calling people that until you're older."

  "Reiner!" Bertholdt was startled.

  "What? It's true," Reiner shrugged. "No point saying otherwise."

  "Kie was saying it," Berwick mumbled into Reiner's shirt. "He said that's what Nene called Jean what he came over to their house to see Kie's big brother."

Bertholdt was incredibly confused by the mention of so many names and relations, and Reiner decide to allay it. "Kie is Marco's little brother ("and my bestest friend ever" Berwick added) and Nene babysits him most of the time because both Marco's parents are working. And since Jean is always kidnapping Marco for sex or whatnot, Marco has to call someone to look after Kie, and Nene was... well."

  "Nene is pretty," Berwick informed Bertholdt gravely. "Kie says Nene is single."

Reiner spluttered. " _What_ do you guys talk about in school? You're both ten years old!"

  "Kie says Nene is like his mom, though," Berwick said thoughtfully, ignoring Reiner's outburst. "So it would be gross if I married her."

  "Okay, that's enough on Nene and Kie," Reiner recovered control of the situation, and chuckled at Bertholdt's stunned expression. "Sorry. Berwick's mouth is like a runaway train."

  "That's-uh- okay," Bertholdt stammered.

  "Did you apologise to Hannah for saying that word to her?" Reiner poked Berwick's cheek, which still had some baby fat.

  "No," Berwick set his jaw stubbornly, and the expression was remarkably like the one Reiner had one had on when he was telling Nene to stop trying to set him and Bertholdt up during training. "She ate my yoghurt. She is a bitch."

  "Berwick," Reiner warned. "Don't say that. I ban you from saying that word until you're sixteen on the threat of no more peach yoghurt.  _Ever_."

Berwick's face fell. "Ever?"

  "Ever."

  "Fine," Berwick's expression was still mulish as Reiner got off the youth bed and headed down the corridor to another room. This time, the door was decorated in a blitz of signs and stickers warning off trespassers and swearing prosecution if they so much as touched the door.

  "Hannah!" Reiner pounded on the door.

The muffled beat of music went flat, and the door swung open to reveal a raven-haired, blue-eyed teenaged girl with heavy make-up and a sullen expression. " _What_."

  "You ate Berwick's yoghurt?"

  "So what if I did?"

  "Apologize," Reiner said firmly. "You  _knew_ that was Berwick's. Hell, even Tomas knows, and he's  _five_."

  "It didn't have his name on it."

  "Neither does your face, but it's still yours, isn't it?" 

Hannah huffed, clearly unwilling to say a simple 'sorry'.

  "Hannah," a threatening note crept into his voice. "I know you stole my football jacket to make Dylan jealous. Do you want me to call Dylan up and tell him whose jacket you're wearing?"

Hannah's baby blue eyes went wide. "You wouldn't."

  "Saying sorry is a small price to pay for my silence. And my jacket, which I seriously doubt you are ever going to return."

  "Ugh, you're such a--" Hannah scowled. "Fine. I'm sorry I ate your yoghurt, Berwick."

  "I'm sorry I called you a bitch," Berwick was mollified by her apology, and willing to apologise back.

Hannah rolled her eyes and slammed the door shut. Within a second, the music was back on and louder than before.

  "Even though you really are one," Berwick whispered into Reiner's shoulder.

  "Berwick!"

The ten-year old shrugged.

  "Sorry you had to witness a sibling fight on your first trip to the zoo," Reiner grinned ruefully at Bertholdt, who was now carrying a dozing five-year old on his shoulders. A silver of drool snuck down the side of Tomas' mouth and pooled onto Bertholdt's hair. Reiner decided not to mention anything about that.

  "It's okay," Bertholdt smiled shyly, a minuscule upturn of the corners of his mouth. "I'm sort of an only child. My little brother died when I was younger."

  "I'm sorry for your loss," Reiner gave him a sympathetic squeeze on the shoulder. The contact made Bertholdt blush for reasons he wasn't exactly sure of.

  "I was ten when Marcel died," Bertholdt said quietly. "I don't remember much about how he died, but I know my parents were very distraught about it. They still won't talk about him now."

  "I'm ten!" Berwick, completely oblivious to the atmosphere, announced.

  "Yes, you are," Reiner chuckled. "Come on, let's go and kick Bertl's very fine ass-- I mean, teach Bertl how to play Mario Kart."

* * *

 

Nene sat up straight, and Kie gave her a weird, questioning look.

  "What?" Kie asked, screwing up his adorable button nose. He was like a miniature version of Marco, sans a miniature Jean. But Nene had great hopes for Berwick. "Nene, what is it?"

The two of them were sitting at the coffee table in the Bodt's house on Ares Road, waiting for either Marco to come home from Jean's house where they were probably getting really hot and heavy (Nene had an mental nosebleed), or for Mr. and Mrs. Bodt to come back from work. Nene was betting on Kie's parents coming home first.

She had already fed Kie, and now the pint-sized Marco was tackling his fourth-grade maths homework with an enthusiasm that sadly did not make 5 multiplied by 16 equal to 56. But it was still cute anyway, and in return for the doting affection she showered on baby Bodt, she received his puppy-like adoration.

  "My gaydar is tingling," Nene stared off into the direction of Shinganshina Avenue, expression sober. "It real."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a piece of shit, and I am half-sorry for it.
> 
> (Thank you so much for all the lovely comments, and I will reply you all one by one to personally express my heartfelt gratitude for your compliments. Do drop more comments, because they are my lifeblood and they keep me going to write the next chapter. Hint, hint)


	6. You Must Not Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peek into Bertholdt's past, and meet Mrs. Fubar...

  "I'm home," Bertholdt called out quietly. The house was dark, which meant his mother was probably still out working at her new job in the bookstore in Maria district, or asleep.

The layout of his house was similar to Reiner's, unlike the Braun's house his was empty, cold and a brutal reminder of just how much he had screwed up not only his own life but his parents' as well.

He trudged up to his room, feeling the weight of reality pressing down on him after having dinner with the Braun's.

They had been so nice, so welcoming even though he was practically a complete stranger. Even Hannah had come out of her room to eat dinner with the family, because it was tradition to eat as one. And Reiner was like a blond version of his father, who was dark-haired with crinkly golden eyes from years of laughter and just as brawny as his son despite having a desk job. He challenged Bertholdt to an arm wrestling match, despite Reiner rolling his eyes at his dad, and Bertholdt had lost but Mr. Braun complimented him saying that he had a good arm.

_That's what Daz had said._

Bertholdt shivered at the memory and focused on the lovely evening at the Braun's. Mrs. Braun had served shepherd's pie and stir-fried vegetables in some mouth-watering sauce. She had gently peppered Bertholdt with questions about his favourite food and hobbies whenever there was a lapse in conversation at the dining table (usually because everyone else had their mouths full). Mr. Braun was much louder and rowdier, an older version of his eldest son. It was obvious that he was very proud of Reiner, from the way he boasted about his son's captainship of the best trophy-clinching football team in the county.

_You're a fucking disgrace to this family._

Stop, Bertholdt commanded himself shakily. Don't do this to yourself.

_Get the hell out of my sight. You make me sick._

_You should have died instead of your brother._

Bertholdt ran for the toilet, but he wasn't quick enough. Instead, he vomited Mrs. Braun's delicious shepherd's pie on the staircase landing. It was partially-digested, and Bertholdt spent a few minutes bent over the rancid-smelling mess, panting and coughing. Cold sweat broke out all over his body, prickling against his skin. He felt woozy, and almost stumbled face-first into the puddle of vomit, just barely managing to grab the recently-varnished wooden staircase banister.

 _I need to clean this up_ , Bertholdt was dizzy and his thoughts were nearly incoherent.  _Before Mom--_

A key turned in the lock of the front door, and Bertholdt stiffened.

  "I'm home," a weary voice announced. Annie Fubar was forty eight, but until recent months, it hadn't showed. She was once a woman with an intimidating sort of beauty, with her strong nose, passive-aggressive pale blue eyes that could stare you down into doing anything she wanted, and flowing flaxen hair.

Over the last three months, the features remained, but the face was now lined with the consequences of too much emotional and financial burden. The eyes had turned dull, the hair coarse and forever pulled back with a plastic clasp. But she was still a pillar of support, albeit a harsh one, for Bertholdt.

  "Hi Mom," Bertholdt said weakly, collapsing against the wall of the staircase landing. They hadn't unpacked, so the pictures documenting Bertholdt's journey from infancy, to childhood, then adolescence, and finally his first day at Titan Academy, where it had all unravelled, did not decorate the walls around him.

His mother came into view, smelled the mess, saw the pale, slumped teenager on the staircase landing. She gave a sigh that chipped at Bertholdt's conscience.

  "Oh, Bertholdt."

* * *

 

  "... _heart beat running away,"_ Reiner bellowed from the top of his lungs. " _Beating like a drum and it's coming your way..."_

Nicki Minaj asked Reiner if he could hear that  _boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, bass_.

He seriously wished he had Bertholdt in the shotgun seat beside him so he could tell the timid giant that he had that super bass. Or  _superb ass_. And also just so he could see Bertholdt blushing like a fucking tomato and maybe,  _maybe,_ even laughing at Reiner's parody.

But when he had gone over to No.3 that morning and knocked on the door, it had been Mrs. Fubar who had answered the door and informed him in a strained, polite voice that Bertholdt wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be going to school today, thank you for offering.

He had nodded, and even now as he steered into school parking lot with NIcki telling him that she had thing for American guys, he couldn't get rid of that heavy feeling of uneasy concern in his stomach. Was Bertholdt okay? Did he have a fever, or a cold? Or did he have a stomach ache, because sometimes his mom used expired ingredients and the Brauns had gotten so used to it that their stomachs were practically made out of steel. Hell, Berwick's class once accidentally consumed moulding muffins, and he was the only one who wasn't green and hurling his guts into the toilet bowl. He decided to run by Bertholdt's house later during lunch. He figured he could go there and get back to school in time before Mr. Bozado's class started. Good thing he'd finished his homework last night after getting his ass handed to him by a certain six foot two absentee in Mario Kart. He was  _supposed_ to be a noob.

But at least Berwick and Tomas had gone to sleep laughing. Reiner smiled as he remembered how his two youngest siblings had nearly snorted toothpaste while washing up as they giggled.

He parked the Jeep, and hopped out. It was still fucking cold, and he wasn't wearing a second layer of underwear. He double-timed it into the school building and it's central heating. He had been so excited to pick up Bertholdt and drive him to school that he hadn't thought to...

 _Wait a fucking second_. Reiner pulled up short, making the students trudging in behind him collide into his broad, sinewy back.  _Did I just think I was excited to see Bertholdt? Are you fucking kidding me. The guy is six foot two. He could be a linebacker. Or quarterback. He's ripped, from what I could feel when I tickled/groped him last night after the nth time he beat me in that fucking stupid game--_

  "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Reiner turned around and was surprised to see a very cranky (well, cranki _er_ ) Jean dragging along a sleepy Marco.Both their eyes were bloodshot, and had serious dark circles under them. "Whoa. What happened to you two?

Jean bared his teeth.

  "Nene," Marco said their team manager's name like an explanation, Jean like an oath.

  "Somehow," Reiner shuddered. "I get the feeling that I do  _not_ want to know."

  "Oh, you'll know," Jean said grimly. "Either now from me, who will tell you calmly and as your friend; or later, from Nene, who will hurl her fantasies all over you like the fucking maniac she is."

  "Is this really important?" Reiner groaned. The three of them walked towards their lockers, students milling around but still making way for them and parting like the Red Sea for Moses.

  "It's about you," Marco said helpfully.

  "Okay, if Nene's involved, and it's about me," Reiner put two and two together. And unlike his brother, got four. "This can't be very good."

  "It also includes Bertholdt," Jean twirled the dial on his locker, giving his captain a sideways look with multiple implications in his ochre eyes.

  "Even worse."

  "Were you two," Marco hesitated. "you know,  _doing_ anything last night?"

  "And please don't tell me you did him," Jean grabbed his AP Chemistry textbook, dog-eared and ratty. "That would make Nene even crazier. Crazy Nene is never good for the team."

  "I introduced him to the family and we had dinner and just played Mario Kart with Tomas and Berwick," Reiner huffed. Then he looked at Marco. "Speaking of Berwick, I need to ask: did you know Kie is throwing the b-word around since he heard Nene call Jean that?"

Marco blanched. "Please be kidding me. My parents will  _never_ let Nene babysit Kie again--"

  "And as much as I hate to say it," Jean grumbled. "Nene babysitting Kie is important because otherwise we won't get in any of this--"

To elaborate, he squeezed Marco's butt, and the latter gasped and punched him in the shoulder. Jean smirked.

  "Stop bragging already," Reiner rolled his eyes. "Tell Kie to lay off the b-word. Berwick called Hannah that yesterday after she ate his peach yoghurt--"

  "Hannah kind of  _is_  a bitch," Jean pointed out.

  "--and Bertholdt had to watch a Braun sibling fight," Reiner continued like Jean hadn't said anything. "And he also happens to be skipping school, possibly because my mom may have used expired stuff to make shepherd's pie yesterday."

  "Ouch," Marco winced sympathetically. He had helped Kie through the muffin poisoning, and it had not been a very brotherly-bonding type of experience for the two.

  "I'm going to drop by his house later to see if he's okay," Reiner told Jean. "Cover for me in Mr. Bozado's class if I'm late."

  "What? But--"

  "You owe me for Mrs. Nanaba's class," Reiner growled. "So suck it up."

Jean, with no other choice, did.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but this will be on hiatus until I finish my tests and IFRIS (It's For Real, I Swear)!


	7. How It Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner is concerned about Bertholdt and wants to help him, but he needs to know why Bertholdt needs help in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished IFRIS! I'm so sorry for neglecting this baby, and will now devote myself to finishing this!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of suicide, serious panic attack, homophobia, family rejection, and various other depressive issues.

  "Bertholdt?" Reiner rapped on the door with his knuckles.

Unlike the cheery red door of his house, just yards away, this one was a dull gray and it was in serious need of a new coat of paint. The doorknob was oxidising in patches, and it screeched in protest when it was turned.

  "Ah," Mrs. Fubar recognised him, and she was clearly forcing a smile. "The young man from this morning. Reiner, was it?"

  "Yes," Reiner nodded. "Is Bertholdt feeling better yet, ma'am?"

  "He's sleeping," Mrs. Fubar gestured towards the stairs behind her. "He had.. a little 'episode' last night."

  "Was it food poisoning?" Reiner grimaced. "I'm so sorry, if that's the case. He had dinner at our house and my mom can sometimes be pretty absent-minded about the expiry dates of her ingredients."

  "No, no," the woman chuckled, and Reiner could see the striking beauty she once possessed but was now worn down with age and too much stress. "Nothing so serious. Bertholdt is a little stressed from being in a new environment, so he gets a little queasy."

 _'A little queasy' doesn't begin to cover it_ , Reiner thought grimly. The guy was perpetually on edge and flinched at the mention of anything remotely related homosexuality. He'd seen these kind of symptoms once before, and back then he'd been powerless to help. Then Mylius had committed suicide, and Reiner swore to never leave anyone in the same situation alone again.

  "Is it okay if I talk to Bertholdt?" Reiner asked, steeling himself for any rebuff from the small woman who barely filled up three-quarters of the doorframe.

Mrs. Fubar seemed to be gauging Reiner, and whatever she saw, she deemed satisfactory. "Alright then. Come on in."

The interior of the house reflected the monotonous color and state of the door. The furniture was sparse and bordered on Spartan, and hardly any decorations had been put up. Cardboard boxes lay like sleeping dogs around the living room, waiting to be unpacked and slowly gathering dust. The lights were off save for the kitchen, where a single fluorescent bulb flickered dimly.

  "Sorry about the state of this place," she apologised as she led the brawny youth up the stairs. "We haven't had much chance to unpack, between Bertholdt being at school and me at work most of the time."

  "That's okay, Mrs. Fubar" Reiner assured her. "This is what my room looks like, anyway."

Startled, Bertl's mother laughed. "You can call me Annie. I'm divorced, anyway. So I'm not Mrs. Fubar anymore. Annie Leonhardt now."

  "I'm sorry," the younger blonde murmured. "Is that why you moved here?"

  "Yes," she paused in front of a door. "My husband and I had a little... disagreement."

She knocked on the door. "Bertholdt? Your friend from school is here to see you."

There was a loud  _thud_ , like he had fallen out of bed, and it was followed by a noise that you would hear from a frightened, wounded animal.

  "Bertholdt?" Annie tried the doorknob, but the teenager had locked it. " _Bertholdt?"_

Reiner knew something was very wrong now, and gently nudged the older woman away. "Sorry about this, Annie--!"

He kicked the door down in one strong move, and the wooden barricade came crashing down to reveal that Bertholdt had indeed fallen out of bed, tangled in his sheets and was perspiring. He was pale as his sheets, and was having a serious panic attack. His breathing came in rasping gasps and he was beginning to have difficulty respiring.

  "Bertholdt!" Annie rushed forward and helped her son sit upright properly. "Get me the pills on his nightstand!"

Reiner hurried and grabbed the cylinder of prescribed medication from the tiny wooden table, and handed them to her. He saw the label on them: Diazepam, otherwise known as Valium. They were used to treat people with anxiety or panic attacks.

Annie forced a pill down Bertholdt's throat, and followed it with water from a bottle that Reiner passed to her. Within minutes, the tall boy had calmed down considerably. His mother and Reiner breathed slightly easier, and the blond youth carefully placed Bertholdt back in bed.

  "Thank you," Annie murmured so quietly that Reiner barely heard her. "for helping without hesitation."

  "I...I had a friend with the same problem once," Reiner felt like if he told Annie, she would tell him the truth behind Bertholdt's situation. "Except he never had medication or any sort of help."

  "Is he better now?" Annie sounded hopeful, and Reiner's heart constricted painfully.

  "No," Reiner whispered, almost to himself. "He committed suicide."

Annie didn't say anything for a long while, and they both just stood there, watching over Bertholdt's sleeping form in silent, understanding camaraderie.

* * *

 

Bertholdt was still asleep, and Reiner found that after what had just happened, he didn't have the heart to go back to school. He called Jean to tell him that there had been a slight 'problem' (he took care not to mention what the problem was, exactly, and Annie had nodded in grateful approval), and to inform the office that Reiner was taking a day off to take care of Bertholdt. Annie would drop by the school on her way to work later to give them the formal slip for reason of absence.

  "Mylius was my friend," Reiner and Annie sat opposite each other at the tiny kitchen table, with mugs of tea between them. "He and I knew each other from first grade, and we were pretty tight. He used to come over to my house to play all the time, and when we started middle school, he was my vice-captain on the football team. We were close enough to be brothers.

  "Then in seventh grade, Mylius found out that he was... well, gay. He didn't tell anyone for the longest time, and he suffered because of it. Nobody noticed, so nobody could help him. I couldn't help him," Reiner continued, his voice growing unsteady as he remembered. Mylius had been his close friend, yet he didn't trust Reiner with his secret, and in the end it had hurt nobody but himself. "He had panic attacks like Bertl's whenever people said anything remotely related to homosexuals. And at that age, well, we were all just idiotic brats using words we didn't really understand. We called each other things like 'faggot' and 'gay' just for laughs. We didn't realise how much damage we were doing to Mylius, or why he was panicking when we were having fun. He couldn't tell his parents, because his parents were... they had certain religious beliefs, and if he had told them, they would have disowned him. There was no question about that. He was so afraid of all of us, and he couldn't tell anyone or ask for help, because he was so scared of being bullied and cast out for it. He was fifteen when he decided that there was no way out, and he cut his wrist in a locked bathroom. He bled out and by the time people noticed he was missing and broke down the door, he was dead."

Annie watched in sympathetic silence as Reiner began to cry noiselessly, and then he said brokenly: "He killed himself a week before I came out to the entire school."

  "How did you know he was gay?" Annie asked quietly.

  "He left a note," Reiner took a deep, shaky breath to stop the tears. "His parents burned it when the forensics returned it after they confirmed the case as a suicide, but it was published in the local newspaper. They gave a statement saying that Mylius was not their son-- I mean, what kind of parents do that to their child, especially when they're dead?"

Annie gripped the handle of the mug until her knuckles turned white and strained against the paper-thin skin. "Bertholdt's father did."

Reiner didn't say anything, and taking his silence as encouragement to go on, she told him how Bertholdt's life had done a complete 180 in the last two months.

  "Bertholdt was a perfectly normal boy at Titan Academy," his mother's voice was heavily interlaced with weariness and sadness. "He had his own clique of friends he could count on and hang out with, he was on the basketball team first string as a point guard, and he even had a girlfriend. Then a boy named Daz became his training partner during practice, and they would hang out with each other all the time. They became close friends, and Bertholdt... Bertholdt fell in love with him."

Reiner's heart ached for Bertholdt as he began to see where this was going.

  "Bertholdt realised that he was gay, and he knew that he couldn't tell anyone because... everyone at the Academy were very... conventional," Annie struggled to find the right words. "He kept it a secret, broke up with his girlfriend and stopped hanging out with his friends except for Daz. He was so in love with Daz, that he deluded himself into thinking that Daz's platonic affection was romantic, and confessed to him."

Annie took a long drink of her tea before she could continue. Her shoulders were shaking now, and Reiner held her shoulder to give her emotional support.

  "Daz... the little bastard," Annie shuddered as she remembered what had happened. "He called my son a faggot, and told him he was disgusting and to stay away from him.  Then he told everyone in school that Bertholdt was a homosexual creep, and they all turned on him. He was a straight-A student, the best point guard on the basketball team, well-liked by everyone who knew him because he was gentle and never offended anyone. They all turned on him so easily. Bertholdt came home everyday looking like a mess, because people at school would push his head into the toilet bowl, or throw a trashcan at him when he walked past. They said horrible things about my son, and beat him up everyday during lunch period until his bones broke and he got bruises everywhere. The coach kicked him off the team, saying he couldn't have a gay playing when it endangered the other students. Endanger  _the other students?_ It was them who were endangering Bertholdt's  _life_.

  "He wouldn't tell us what had happened at first," Annie's voice cracked. "Then the letter came that Titan Academy was expelling Bertholdt because his sexual orientation was a threat to the other students. My husband, Bertholdt's father was furious. He took his belt and thrashed Bertholdt until he was bleeding and bruised. He punched and kicked our son until I finally called the cops to break down the door and stop him. My son... he had eight broken ribs, twelve fractures in different places, internal organs haemorrhaging and a concussion. He wouldn't stop apologising, even after we'd gotten him into the ER."

She choked with the emotions she couldn't let out, but went on so Reiner could know the whole truth. "My husband's mental beating had taken a heavier toll on Bertholdt than his physical beating. I don't know what horrible things that man said to him in two hours, but by the time I realised what was going on and that he wasn't 'talking' to Bertholdt anymore, it was already too late. Bertholdt's mind was more broken than his body."

  "So I took Bertholdt away from that man," she bared her teeth in a fierce display of motherly love, even though her eyes were glittering with unshed tears. "I entered him in Trost High, moved here, and filed for divorce and permanent custody. I thought about getting a restraining order, but I knew that  _that_ man wouldn't want to see Bertholdt ever again."

Reiner was silent, stunned by everything Annie had just told him. This was what Bertholdt had endured in the short span of two months. He had been rejected by almost everyone he knew: his crush, his friends, his father. They had pushed him over the edge of his mental and emotional endurance, simply because he had loved the wrong person and had been brave enough to confess it. They had bullied him, beaten him and scorned him for loving the wrong sex.

The whole thing made Reiner's jaw clench as sympathy gave way to indignant, righteous fury. " _Endangering the team_ "? " _Threatening the other students with his sexual orientation_?" That was so much bullshit, Reiner could barely believe it. But he could, because he knew how bigoted and how cruel people could be when it came to people who were simply different about who they loved. He was lucky enough to only have endured it once or twice, and had the blessing of friends on his side. A junior had taunted him for being gay, called him a faggot, and body-slammed him against the lockers even though Reiner was more muscular than him.

Eren and Jean, in a rare moment of cohesion, had jumped the senior and beat him up so badly that by the time the teachers managed to pull them off the guy, his face was a bleeding, unrecognisable pulp.

Even his family had been understanding, even though it had taken them a while to come around to it. But they understood, and they said that his happiness was the only thing that mattered to them. Well, Bertwick and Tomas had asked what 'gay' meant, and when Reiner told them: "it just means I would rather kiss guys than girls", their response had been hilarious.

  "We're gay, too!" Tomas piped up cheerfully, and Bertwick had been just as unfazed. Apparently, they'd kissed their fair share of both boys and girls in kindergarten and elementary school respectively. Reiner took great care not to let Nene know about that.

But Bertholdt had not been as fortunate as Reiner. He'd been frightened, alone and confused. He didn't understand why he was being cast out as a threat when all he had ever done was loved a boy who wasn't worth loving.

Reiner's brows drew together in a terrifying expression as white-hot anger seeped into his bones. He wanted to break this Daz kid's face in, and pulverise all the bones in his body so he could never move an inch again. He wanted to raze Titan Academy down to the ground, with all its staff and students still inside. He wanted to thrash Bertholdt's father with the same belt he'd used to thrash his own son, until he was raw and bleeding and bruised and could never so much as a lift a finger against anyone else again, much less a hurt, defenceless teenager. He had never known he was capable of such frightening violence and viciousness, and it startled him because it felt good to plot the slow and excruciating demise of all those who had made the gentle giant so emotionally scarred and miserable and fearful.

But of course, that wouldn't be legal. And Reiner couldn't comfort or protect the gentle giant from behind steel bars.

He never realised that he could feel so strongly for someone, especially someone he had only just met in recent days. Was this how Jean felt when Marco was threatened for being weaker and disfigured? Or how Eren felt when Armin was bullied for simply being smarter?

Reiner pushed that thought aside and considered the situation now.

  "Annie," Reiner held the frail yet strong woman's gaze. "Would you mind if I told my friends this?"

  "And why would you do that?" her voice turned as cold as ice, and Reiner knew if he didn't explain quickly, he would be tossed out on his ear. She was a small woman compared to him, and wiry in build. But he didn't doubt that when it came to protecting her son, she would drag him out and bury his ass three feet deep into the sidewalk.

  "Because then they can help him," Reiner said seriously, determined not to flinch under her icy stare. "Everybody in Trost High is pretty understanding. A lot of the students are like me, and those who aren't are quite accepting. Besides, with my friends and I backing Bertholdt up, no one will ever try to hurt him again."

  "And why wouldn't they? What's going to stop them?" Annie pointed out. "What can a bunch of eighteen or nineteen year olds do against people's prejudice?"

  "You'd be surprised," Reiner said gravely. "Besides, we're not the only ones. Our principal and football coach are in a relationship with each other, and they're both grown men with a lot of connections."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if there are any inaccuracies or anything offensive in here! Please give feedback if there is anything you need me to change!


	8. Let Me In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt, now knowing that the whole school knows his past, is afraid to go back.

  "You did  _what?"_

Bertholdt's voice dropped to a whisper as he froze in the act of putting on his jacket and stared at his mother. She continued to sip her tea, utterly serene and immune to her son's horrified panic. It was almost time for Reiner to come by and pick up Bertl, something the gentle giant had been looking forward to until now.

  "Reiner came by yesterday, and he was concerned," Annie shrugged. "He looked like a trustworthy boy. And his pecs are so big he could probably use a man-bra and get away with it."

  "Mom! Don't change the topic," but Bertholdt blushed at the idea of the brawny blonde wearing a pink, frilly bra despite his onset of fear. "Why did you tell him? What if he--"

  "Tells everyone else?" she arched an eyebrow. "He already did. He made the calls in front of me, too."

  "And you didn't do anything?" he gaped at her, cold sweat breaking out in all the familiar places. His heart was ricocheting like a deflected bullet in his chest and he thought was going to pass out, he felt so faint. "I thought we moved here so no one would know that--"

  "Bertholdt, sweetie," Annie put her hand on her son's cheek. She was a small woman, and she had to really reach up to touch her son's face, but Bertholdt obliged by perpetual slouching. "It's not something to be ashamed of, you know. And I heard from Reiner that there are a lot of... well, people who are like you in your new school. Besides, I don't think you have anything to fear from Reiner. He looks like a trustworthy person, and someone who can protect you like I couldn't."

  "Don't say that, Mom," Bertholdt closed his eyes and felt his heart and head hurt. "You protected me. You still are, and you're doing a great job."

  "I'm at work almost all the time," she pointed out. "I can't protect you as well as I'd like. Having friends like Reiner will make me feel a lot more at peace, knowing that there's someone on your side looking out for you."

  "I don't need--"

The doorbell rang, followed by a brisk rap on the door. Bertholdt yelped, and gave a frightened squeak when Reiner called out.

  "Bertholdt? Come on, or we're gonna be late for school!"

  "Get a move on, silly," Annie shoved her son towards the door when he stayed rooted to the spot in terror.

The door swung open without warning, and Reiner registered an incredibly petrified Bertholdt. He swallowed a chuckle, and grabbed the taller boy's hand.

  "Bye, Annie!" Reiner hollered as he dragged Bertholdt to the Jeep. "I'll drop him off after school!"

  "Have fun and don't do anything too drastic!" Annie shouted back as they climbed into the vehicle.

He gave her a thumbs-up before he backed out of her driveway, and then made her wince when he just narrowly avoided upending her mail box.

The drive to school was as awkwardly silent as it was short, because Reiner was eager enough to break half a dozen traffic regulations in his bid to get to school. He was oblivious to Bertholdt's terrified panic as he waited for the blonde to say something, anything. To tell him he was a --

  "Burrito, you're going to want to put on your seatbelt," Reiner glanced at him before making a sharp hairpin turn. The six-foot-two grabbed at his seatbelt before he toppled over entirely and smacked his head against the window.

The blonde screeched into the school parking lot and reversed his car into its usual spot in record time, honking at innocent bystanders in his way. He yanked on the brakes and put the gear in Park, and grinned at Bertholdt.

  "Eight minutes flat," Reiner announced proudly. "I should do this for a living."

  "You might kill someone," Bertholdt stammered when he got his breath back.

  "Nah," he pulled on his backpack. "Come on."

Bertholdt opened the car door and very narrowly hit Jean's Volvo. When his feet hit the ground, Jean and Marco were standing in front of Reiner's Jeep, and their expressions made Bertholdt feel less foreboding.

  "Sorry I called you a homophobe," Jean apologised right off the bat without preamble. Reiner smacked the back of his head because Bertholdt's eyes had gone as big as softballs. "You should have heard Marco's lecture after Reiner told us about your situation yesterday. My ears, they still ring."

  "And I'm sorry Jean was so insensitive," Marco came forward and took Bertholdt's hand, his face rueful. "We should have asked."

Bertholdt gulped, and even though the temperature outside was freezing, he was sweating profusely. "I-I wouldn't have said anything."

  "But I'm glad your Mom did," Reiner gave Bertholdt a hug. "It was hard on you."

That was Bertholdt's undoing. The giant teenager began to cry, loud hiccuping sobs that attracted attention from the other students in the parking lot but Jean deflected their confused stares with his trademark of a fierce glare. Bertholdt clutched at the back of Reiner's jacket, crying into the shorter boy's muscular shoulder as he hunched over, his own body trembling with the outflow of emotion.

  "I'm sorry," Bertholdt blubbered. "I'm sorry."

  "Sorry for what, you silly burrito?" Reiner patted his back. "It's not your fault you're fabulous."

  "I kind of get how you feel, man," Jean agreed. "When I told my parents I was gay, my dad punched me and told me I was no son of his. Then my mom talked to him, and he came around. Well, that and sleeping on the couch got old real fast."

  "I ruined my parent's marriage," Bertholdt half-wailed, and Jean winced as he realised he hadn't exactly helped when he reminded the tall boy of it.

  "Bertl," Reiner held the snivelling youth at arm's length. "Your mom and dad haven't even slept in the same room for years since your brother died. Your dad was drunk when he drove your brother home from school, and that's why your brother died. The only reason your mom stayed with your dad was because of you. Your situation was the reason for her to finally leave him. You should be glad, because that's what your mom wanted."

  "R-really?" Bertholdt hiccuped, unsure if Reiner was telling the truth.

  "Annie told me last night," Reiner hugged him again, knowing that Bertholdt needed the physical contact to calm him down. "She was worried that you were blaming yourself-- which you were, apparently-- and she told me that your dad was a miserable son of a bitch and she couldn't wait to leave him."

  "Wow," Bertholdt sniffed, amazed. "My mom said that?"

  "Not exactly," Reiner didn't tell him that Annie had called her ex-husband much worse things over the kitchen table. "But something to that effect."

The warning bell rang, and the four of them made their way into the school.

  "How did your parents react when you t-told them you were gay?" Bertholdt asked Marco hesitantly, unsure if he was picking at a wound.

  "I didn't tell them until after the accident," Marco shrugged, grinning. "They were just glad I was alive and happy, and they were totally cool with it, since it was Jean who was making me happy and keeping me safe."

  "When I came out to my family," Reiner rolled his eyes. "Tomas and Berwick asked me what 'gay' meant."

  "Yeah, and then when Reiner told them," Jean began to laugh so hard, tears formed at the corners of his ochre eyes. "They told him that they were gay, too. I bet we all know who Berwick was kissing."

  "Shut up," Reiner growled.

  "It's probably why Nene likes taking care of Kie so much," Marco's nose wrinkled in vague concern.

* * *

 

Nobody dared to give Bertholdt a disdainful look when he passed by them in the hallway. Instead, he got pats on the shoulder and back, sympathetic noises, encouragement and praise for pulling through his ordeal. It was unreal.

He told Reiner so during lunchtime, when the blonde had swung by his class to pick him up so he could eat with his friends. He was promptly introduced to Sasha, Connie's girlfriend, who had pretty brown hair and a voracious appetite; Armin, Eren's boyfriend, a sweet little blonde with an IQ of 180 and a history of being bullied; Christa and Ymir, a female Armin (she was his twin sister, not that Bertholdt could miss the striking likeness) and a tall, freckled girl with harsh features and a perpetual smirk respectively.

They were all so welcoming (Ymir just smirked when Reiner told her that he was gay, and put her arm around her girlfriend by way of response), and so sweet that Bertholdt thought he was going to cry again. As it was, he found himself relaxing and even laughing at some of their antics and petty quarrels. The cafeteria was swarming with students of various cliques, and Reiner's was a predominantly jock clique, except that half of them weren't even jocks. They didn't behave like a stereotypical one either, exchanging friendly insults with other athletes, cheerleaders, band majors and geeks alike. Reiner gave him half of his fried pork sandwich when Bertholdt took a bite from the other half and said it was good, waving aside the taller boy's protests and just taking his cole slaw without a word.

The group tactfully avoided talking about Bertholdt's past, instead choosing to talk about homework, teachers, football and even sitcoms. Bertholdt felt like he was dreaming, because this couldn't possibly be real... it had to be a dream, or a delusion. He felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, even when he smiled at Connie's remark about Sasha's favourite foods (baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, patatas bravas, gnocchi, etc.).

  "Yo, homo!"

A sophomore passed by, holding up his fist for Reiner to bump, completely unaware of the circumstances. He had no cruel intent, no prejudice, just innocent humour.

Bertholdt stared at him blankly, and Reiner hissed ferociously like a mother cat protecting her litter.

  "Derek, come here," Jean had never seen his captain react like that, and was startled into playing the role of peacemaker. "Hurry up, idiot."

The bewildered sophomore was taken aside and duly filled in on the situation. Within minutes, he returned and apologised profusely.

Bertholdt continued to stare at him blankly. His mind was already somewhere else. Sometime else.

   _"Homo whore!"_

_"Like taking it up the ass, do you?"_

_"Faggot bitch."_

_"You're disgusting."_

_"Go back to the garbage dump where you belong!"_

Reiner saw the sign of an impending panic attack, and grabbed Bertholdt's face, forcing him to look at the blonde. His eyes were wide, unseeing of the present and drowning in the past. His skin was slick with sweat under Reiner's palms, and his breathing was turning into short, panicked gasps.

  "Bertholdt? Bertholdt!" he shook the taller boy's shoulders, grateful that his friends had quickly formed a barricade between the pair and the other students in the cafeteria.

  " _Bertholdt?"_ Reiner shouted at him, growing frantic when the boy wasn't responding, unable to hear him. "Focus on me!"

  "I'm sorry," Bertholdt was starting to cry. "I'm sorry. Please. I'm sorry."

  "Dude, do something!" Connie shouted at Reiner.

Now completely at his wit's end, Reiner did the only thing he could think of doing to calm Bertholdt down and shut him up: he kissed him.

  "That wasn't what I meant when I said do something!"

Reiner ignored Connie, and felt Bertholdt jerk in surprise. His lips were incredibly, mind-blowing soft under Reiner's, and the blonde forgot the original purpose of what he was doing. He felt his own eyes flutter shut as stars exploded behind them, obscuring him from reality as he gently moved his lips against Bertholdt's, encouraging the taller boy to follow his lead.

Bertholdt was jolted from his flashbacks, and his mind went from panic attack to panic attack of a different sort as he registered Reiner  _kissing_ him.

And that he kind of liked it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this too rushed I'm so sorry if it is I was kind of fumbling at this point.


	9. First Things First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wait, Reiner did what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: mention of abuse, homophobia, etc.

Reiner totally forgot why he was kissing Bertholdt, and didn't hear nor see his friends gaping at him in shock.

All he could think of was:  _wow, Bertholdt tastes like Mom's fried pork. And his lips feel like pillow heaven. Kissing him should be_ _illegal--_

Bertholdt pulled away, no longer panting because of his panic attack but panting because Reiner's kiss had taken his breath away. He looked stunned, sweaty, pink and his eyes were filled with stars. He was a gorgeous, ravished mess, with a semi-erection.

Reiner had half a mind to rip off his clothes and see if he was just as gorgeous under them.

  "What the fuck, dude?" Jean grabbed Reiner's shoulder, his pale amber eyes wide with shock. "What are you doing?"

  "Well, it worked, didn't it?" Reiner shrugged, keeping his predator's golden eyes on Bertholdt, who avoided looking at him. He was now blushing like someone had groped him on the subway-- okay, not a good metaphor since Reiner had done pretty much almost the same thing.

  "That is very true..." Connie turned his jaw-dropped expression to Bertholdt.

Everyone began to gawk at Bertholdt, whose blush turned to the flaming deep red you'd expect to see in the scorching pits of hell. Unable to stand the attention of his new-found friends in an embarrassing and possibly permanently-damaging situation, he bolted. He nearly tripped over the bench when he tried to yank his leg out, and stumbled before sprinting out the door with the speed to match a gazelle fleeing a predator.

  "Way to welcome the awkward, traumatised new kid," Ymir held up her Coke in a mocking toast. She was the only one who had kept her wits about her in the midst of Bertholdt's panic attack and Reiner's 'treatment'.

  "Shut up, Ymir," Reiner said without heat. He was still... dazzled from the kiss he'd exchanged with Bertholdt.

  "Earth to Reiner," Jean snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face. "Dude, come out of cuckoo land."

  "Jean..." Marco's nervous voice made his boyfriend turn around immediately without hesitation. And groan.

Nene Kantoku, queen  _fujoshi_ , manager of their team and self-declared manager of their captain's love life since he was the only single gay guy she knew, was staring at them (more specifically, Reiner) with her mouth open in a huge 'O' and her eyes shining like she was going to tell a prophecy.

  "Nene, don't start..." Reiner held up his hands as if he could ward off her inner fangirl.

But instead of starting to squeal like they all expected, she set down her tray of food and her expression became one of indignant outrage.

  "What the heck are you still doing here?" she whacked Reiner on the back of his head. "Go after him!"

* * *

 

Bertholdt had collapsed inside the cubicle of the third-floor boys' toilet (he'd almost gone into the girls' toilet when a female occupant emerged and gave him a weirded-out look), wishing he could curl up into himself like an armadillo. He was caught between crying in fear, and crying in shock. The end result was him pulling his knees up to his chin with the soles of his sneakers on the edge of the toilet seat and hiccuping madly.

He was teetering on the edge of crying in fear, realising that his panic attack had just outcasted him from his newly-found friends. It overrode the exhilaration of having been kissed by a boy who was far more interesting (not to mention good-looking) and definitely  _interested_ than Daz.

Oh, no. Daz.

 _Don't do this to yourself,_ Bertholdt began to rock on the squeaky toilet seat, shaking his head as if he could physically change the direction in which his thoughts were headed.  _Stop it. Don't do this. Stop. Please stop._

 " _Please, stop," Bertholdt cried, numb from being struck too many times and feeling his eye swell shut from the blow he'd been given with his father's fist. "Dad. Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

_His father's blows rained down like unending hail, his face contorted in rage and spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted: "No son of mine is a queer faggot! You're not my son! You're a disgrace to the family, you worthless homosexual! You're the one who should have died instead of your brother--"_

_"...Your dad was drunk when he drove your brother home from school, and that's why your brother died..."_

Bertholdt grasped at that straw of hope. Reiner's face flashed in his mind's eye, and broke through the haze of pain and misery and despair: Reiner's grin, his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how his hair looked like shorn cornsilk and gleamed when it caught the light...

How his lips had felt on Bertholdt's, and that he'd liked it.

He was trying to focus on Reiner so he could draw himself up out of the mud of the last two months, when the toilet door banged open and someone barged in like a madman on a mission.

  "Bertholdt?"

The boy in question gasped and nearly fell off the narrow toilet seat onto the grimy tiled floor. 

  "Bertholdt!"

Reiner knocked on the cubicle door, waited five heartbeats (his heart was racing from running all over the school to find Bertholdt) and then struck it open with his shoulder.

Bertholdt looked terrified out of his wits, and the sudden, violent entrance hadn't helped the mood.

  "Hey, hey," Reiner squatted in front of him and framed the boy's narrow face with his hands. "Easy. You're okay. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you, burrito."

Bertholdt stiffened when Reiner touched him, but he slowly exhaled as Reiner spoke and gave a weak smile that would have been deemed as a grimace by anyone else except the muscular blonde.

  "Thanks," Bertholdt sighed. " _Weiner."_

Reiner grinned, a warm, bright grin that dispelled the last of Bertholdt's fears. "You're catching on. Now, shall we get out of this place that is literally a shit-hole?"

  "Reiner," Bertholdt grabbed at Reiner's sleeve. "Why did you... why did you, you know?"

The blonde glanced at him, puzzled at first. Then understanding dawned. "Oh. You mean kiss you?"

Bertholdt nodded shyly, turning that adorable shade of pink again.

  "I couldn't think of any other way to shut your brain down," Reiner grinned. "It worked, didn't it?"

The pink turned vermillion, and Reiner laughed that big, booming laugh that was so much like his father's.

 _Mine never laughed_ , Bertholdt thought distantly, and felt the one, random thought cloud the horizon.  _No, go away._

He focussed on Reiner, his mile-wide smile and kind gold eyes. The cloud dissipated and he breathed easy.

  "So," Bertholdt said gingerly. "Whenever I freak out... you'll...?"

  "Do you want me to?" Reiner leaned forward, until he was practically nose to nose with the taller teen squatting on the toilet. "It could be your new Valium."

Bertholdt startled, and would have fallen off the toilet bowl if Reiner hadn't grabbed him by the waist. His palm was hot, and the heat seeped through the layers of Bertholdt's clothes. He was going to start sweating for a whole new reason now if Reiner didn't take his hand away.

  "Or would you rather I do it," Reiner's voice dropped to a whisper. "All the time, for no reason at all except that I think you are abso-fucking-lutely adorable?"


	10. Nothing To Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt is faced with a terrifying possibility, and Reiner is determined to let nothing happen to his burrit--I mean Bertholdt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the burrito thing is starting to grow on me.

The coach's office (occasionally shared with Nene when she needed to use the photocopy or laminating machine for printing the team's individual training regimes) was small and overcrowded with the battered desk, an equally battered leather couch with rips in the upholstery and shelves filled with tapes and books and files. But for all its crammed spaces, it was surprisingly tidy and neat, the room smelling like pine air freshener. Coach Levi Ackerman was a stickler for cleanliness and it was evident.

Bertholdt had no idea why he was sitting on a straight-backed wooden chair in front of the battered desk, behind which the imposing principal Erwin Smith sat and the short but nevertheless intimidating football coach stood. He had only sat there for a full minute under their heavy stares, and had already soaked through his undershirt in a nervous bout of sweating.

  "Bertholdt Fubar, right?" Erwin's voice was not unkind, but it brooked no room for contention. Bertholdt could see why he was in charge. "We have some news regarding your father."

 _Dad?_ Bertholdt thought faintly. The unending rain of blows that struck mercilessly, brutally, and without a shred of fatherly compassion of love. The sound and agonising pain of his bones cracking and breaking under his father's fist and feet, the organs that were crushed-- _  
_

 _Stop it,_ Bertholdt panicked.  _Don't be a freak. Don't have an attack in front of the coach and the principal. What if they boot you out of school? Where will you go? Mom will be so disappointed--_

  "Go get Reiner," Erwin told Levi, noticing Bertholdt's growing terror at the simple mention of his father.

The coach nodded once, and strode over to open the office door. His voice was a sharp, commanding bark. "Reiner Braun! Get in here! And Arlert! What the fuck do you think you're doing here? Stop sucking my offensive tackle's face! Eren, get your stupid ass back to work!"

Reiner jogged into the office, ignoring Levi's disgusted expression at his sweat-stained jersey. Instead, he zeroed in on Bertholdt, who looked at him with fear riddling his pale features.

  "Hey, burrito," Reiner said softly, taking the panicking giant's hand. "Calm down. Hold on to me. Focus on me."

  "Reiner," Bertholdt mumbled, squeezing the blonde's hand. "Reiner. I'm okay. I'm okay."

  "I'm afraid Bertholdt needs to focus on me for now," Erwin said apologetically, fondly reminded by the pair of how he used to court Levi back when they were that age. "I have some important news to tell him."

  "Sure," Reiner interlaced his fingers with Bertholdt's, his grip firm and strong and secure. It calmed down Bertholdt's erratic heartbeat some.

  "Berthold's father, Djel Fubar, was a high-ranking manager in Royal Intercorp," Erwin said soberly, all trace of humour gone from his chiseled face. "I say  _was_ , because yesterday the board of directors at Royal Intercorp received solid evidence that Djel Fubar had been embezzling the company's retained profits and using them for less-than-savory purposes. He had covered his tracks by firing the internal accountant responsible for keeping track of the retained profits numbers, accusing her of being the perpetrator. Rafina Gonzalez was furious about the injustice, and when we finally tracked her down and asked her to give a statement, she was only too happy to provide further supporting evidence.

  "The remaining question is: what did Djel Fubar do with the money?" Erwin continued, eyes turning a stormy dark blue. "As we have been made aware, some years ago, Djel Fubar and his son were involved in an automobile accident that killed his youngest child. The police in that district did tests that identified Djel Fubar as being drunk while driving, which put the blame squarely on his shoulders. He could have been involved in a public lawsuit that would have ruined his career if not for the generous amount of money he'd seem to have made appear out of nowhere to cover up the whole incident. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. Djel Fubar was embezzling money to keep the police and the media quiet, so he could have a chance at a promotion. We asked the police in our district to investigate the issue, and they uncovered the files and various other forms of evidence to prove that Djel Fubar was not only bribing the police, but also making use of their compliance to get away with various other unlawful behaviour." 

Erwin took a swig of water, and Levi picked up where his lover left off.

  "We sent all the evidence to the board of directors at Royal Intercorp," Levi said coolly. "They were displeased at the potential smear on the reputation, and destroyed the evidence we sent to them. We received a call, demanding our silence and threatening otherwise. What the fools didn't know was that we recorded the whole thing, and that we still have the original evidence. We told them so, and left with no other choice, they fired Djel Fubar."

  "That's the good news," Erwin said grimly. "But the bad news is that Djel might blame Bertholdt for ruining his career because the company fired him on the grounds that his son was a homosexual and his expulsion from their beneficiary institution, none other than Titan Academy, was bad for the company's image. We are now concerned that he might make an attempt to get revenge. It would be in your best interests to get a restraining order, and never go anywhere alone."

Bertholdt had gone progressively paler and paler as the two adults relayed the whole story. He wanted to puke so badly, but he knew that the coach would probably eviscerate him if he vomited all over the wall-to-wall carpeting. The only thing that kept him from going for the stash of Valium in his pocket was Reiner's presence. The blonde radiated heat, and in a stuffy office that would have been uncomfortable. But Bertholdt's core temperature had gone very cold, and the muscular blonde's body heat was a great consolation. Reiner's grip had not faltered on his hand, and it had kept him from going into a full-on panic attack at the mention of the idea that his father would be going after him. Again. _  
_

* * *

Reiner had just finished installing the surveillance camera on the edge of the porch roof when the secondhand Toyota Corolla pulled into the driveway.

  "How'd it go?" Reiner asked Annie when she climbed out of the driver's side. Her beam was all the answer he needed as he climbed down the unstable metal ladder.

His feet had barely touched the ground when the gentle giant Reiner had come to love hurried out of the car and grabbed him in a hug. The taller boy slouched and buried his face in Reiner's neck, his body shaking and trembling.

  "Reiner," Bertholdt whispered his name like a chant to keep himself calm. "Reiner."

  "You're okay," Reiner put his arms around his recently-made boyfriend's shoulders. "You're okay. Just focus on me."

  "He had to repeat the whole ordeal to the cops at the station so we could file for the restraining order," Annie told Reiner. "He took Valium twice: once at the station, one in the car."

  "Ah," Reiner nodded. "My mom says you are more than welcome to stay at her house. She says she feels more at ease when you're with us so she doesn't have to worry about you in your house alone, with your ex-husband lurking like a stalker at the door, ready to pounce at the moment's notice. Her words, not mine."

  "I don't have much of a choice now, do I?" Annie's laugh was like the tinkling of bells, but rusty bells. It had been a long time since she had been given a reason to laugh at all.

She went inside to grab necessities, tactfully giving her son some time alone with his new, more capable protector.

  "Hey," Reiner stroked the back of Bertholdt's head. "Feeling better yet?"

Bertholdt turned his head so that it was resting on Reiner's shoulder and he gave his boyfriend a weak smile. "Mmhmm."

  "Glad to help," Reiner murmured, brushing his lips over Bertholdt's. It was warm, soft and very, very sweet. He did so love kissing his burrito. "Come on, go get what you need for a sleepover."

Bertholdt went up to his room with Reiner trailing closely behind him, and took out an old duffel bag with Titan Aces emblazoned across the front in faded, peeling print.The sight didn't bother Bertholdt, but it made Reiner's jaw clenched as he remembered how the school had persecuted one lone, innocent and very defenceless boy.

  "Use another bag, babe," Reiner kissed Bertholdt's temple. When the taller boy gave him a confused look, Reiner shook his head. "Just do it."

Confused but complying with his boyfriend's-- Bertholdt got that butterfly feeling in his gut every time he looked at Reiner and realised that yes, this strong and blonde and unashamedly sexy man was his boyfriend-- wishes, he took out a scuffed Eastpak and began to fill it with his toiletries and clothes.

He had only just finished when he felt Reiner's lip on the back of his neck, and shivered.

  "Done?" Reiner grinned, resting his hands on Bertholdt's waist and rubbing it slow, sensual circles.

  "My mom's here," Bertholdt was uninitiated and very, very flustered.

A loud, exaggerated cough from behind them both confirmed this. "Yep. Right here."

 


	11. Safe With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Braun household extends their welcome to Annie and Bertholdt... now where will Bertholdt be sleeping?

Dinner at the Braun's was as rowdy and as clamorous as Bertholdt remembered. Bertwick and Tomas were shouting as they relayed they day at school, with Mr. Braun's loud, booming laugh punctuating his children's yelled conversations. Mrs. Braun was chastising everyone to be quiet and eat properly, to no real success. She apologised to Annie about the noise level, but Annie just smiled and said it had been a long time since she had enjoyed herself like this.

But Bertholdt couldn't really focus on the food or the noise, because Reiner was holding his hand throughout the meal.

The blonde's hand was warm and calloused and firm, and Bertholdt thought he was going to overheat from blushing too hard and too long. The family noticed, and he received warm smiles instead of cold glares. The effect was palpable, and Bertholdt thought he was going to cry with joy and relief. He'd nearly forgotten how accepting and kind and understanding the Brauns were.

  "I'll sleep on the sofa," Annie insisted, when Mrs. Braun tried to kick Reiner out of his room so Annie and her son could bunk together. "Really, it's fine."

  "We'll get out the spare pillows," Mrs. Braun relented. "Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely sure," Annie nodded firmly. Reiner almost missed the wink she gave him, and took it as assent for 'sleeping' with Bertholdt.

  "Looks like you'll be bunking in with me," Reiner kissed his boyfriend's cheek in front of the whole family, and no one even gave them a second glance. It made Bertholdt's insides feel all fuzzy and comfortable, like curling up in front of a fire during the dead of winter.

  "Burrito, do you like it when Rei-Rei kisses you?" Tomas had climbed into Bertholdt's lap in the midst of it all, his eyes big with curiosity.

  "Yes...?"

  "Why did I sense the doubt in your voice?" Reiner said wryly.

  "I kiss lots of people in my class," Tomas declared. "And only some of them say they like it."

  "Is that so?" Reiner had heard this before, and was more interested in Bertholdt's pink cheeks and fantasising about stripping him.

  "Yes," Tomas nodded vigorously.

Not to be outdone, Berwick grabbed Bertholdt's other arm. "Kie says I'm a good kisser."

Reiner rolled his eyes. "You're both ten, and the only people either one of you have ever kissed is each other."

  "I'm not hearing any of this," Mr. Braun cleared the dishes from the table, and Reiner snorted. Bertholdt, comforted by the thought that Mr. Braun wasn't upset about his two other sons being potentially gay as well, smiled.

Annie helped Mrs. Braun wash the dishes, and Mr. Braun and the two youngest Brauns evacuated into the living room before they got roped in for clean-up duty so they could play Wii again.

  "Hold it," Reiner commanded. "Berwick, Tomas, have you two finished your homework?"

  "Partypooper," Mr. Braun complained.

  "Yeah, partypooper," Tomas copied his dad, and even Bertholdt had to smile because he knew the youngest Braun had no idea what it meant.

  "Go and finish your homework," Reiner said firmly. " _Go_."

Grumbling, Berwick and Tomas slunk off to their room.

  "Dad, you're not supposed to encourage them to slack off," Reiner said exasperatedly.

  "What's the harm in playing a little Mario-Kart?"

  "The harm is that all three of you say 'one more game', and you end up playing way past bedtime, that's what."

  "He's a partypooper, isn't he?" Mr. Braun asked Bertholdt, looking aggrieved.

  "He's a really good babysitter," Bertholdt smiled awkwardly, not used to being the recipient of such humorous questions. Especially questions from his boyfriend's father.

  "It's almost nine," Reiner checked his watch and took Bertholdt's hands. "I'll have to put the brats to bed in about an hour, so we have a little time. Dad, is your telescope still on the roof?"

  "Yeah," Mr. Braun's brows furrowed as he thought about it. "Might want to bring up a cleaning cloth, though. The thing hasn't been brought inside since last year."

* * *

 

  "...and that one is Orion's belt," Reiner pointed out to Bertholdt, his finger tracing the three stars that shone brightly in the night sky. 

They had given up trying to use the grime-covered telescope, and now lay on their backs on a blanket Reiner had thought to spread on the roof. Bertholdt's shoulder was pressed up against Reiner's, and both boys were  _very_ aware of the other's body heat seeping through their own clothing. Reiner had taken Bertholdt's hand, and the taller boy was slowly getting used to it. He no longer started with fright when they came into contact, but rather welcomed it. Which meant Reiner could now do this.

  "Hey, Bertholdt," Reiner turned towards his boyfriend, feeling his heart soar whenever he remembered that this adorable, gentle giant was  _his_. "Look at me?"

Bertholdt obliged, and found himself nose to nose with the blonde. He wanted to jerk away, but Reiner's gaze was nearly hypnotic. The blonde leaned closer, with aggravating slowness until Bertholdt found himself getting impatient with his boyfriend's breath tantalisingly warming his lips and closed the distance between them.

Their lips met passionately, fervently. It was nothing like their first kiss, which had been gentle and soft and sweet. This one was hot with desire, and the need for more. Bertholdt nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Reiner's tongue probing his lips apart, and he gingerly let him in. The stars exploding like fireworks in Bertholdt's head turned into supernovas, and wherever the blonde touched him he left a trail of sparks that threatened to make Bertholdt spontaneously combust.

It felt like a sweet eternity of bliss before they had to come up for air. Both boys' lips were plump and red and shiny from the ardent touch, and before Reiner could lean in again, Bertholdt asked: "Reiner, we're... boyfriends, r-right?"

The haze of uncertainty lurked in his green eyes, clouding out the passion that Reiner had given to him. The blonde was mildly frustrated, but he understood Bertholdt's hesitation and apprehension. Reiner himself sometimes forgot that this tall boy with a very fantastic ass was his for the loving, because it felt so unreal.

  "Yes, we are boyfriends," Reiner kissed Bertholdt again, but this time it was a chaste peck of affection. "You're my boyfriend, burrito."

  "It's not a dream, right?"

  "No," Reiner pulled the taller boy into his arms and let him press his face against his shoulder. He needed the comfort, the solid proof that Reiner was there, with his arms tight around his waist. "I'm here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, love. Anyone that tries is going to get their face broken and smashed ten feet deep into concrete before I personally kick their asses into the depths of Hell."

Bertholdt sighed, relieved that Reiner's feelings for him were genuine and mutual. His threat to all the possible dangers to Bertholdt out there made him feel safer, as violent and bloody as it sounded.

He was asleep when Reiner thought to kiss him again, chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths.

  "Goodnight, burrito," Reiner kissed his boyfriend's forehead before disentangling himself so he could pick the taller boy up in a princess-style carry into his room, unaware that across the street, watching Bertholdt's house was a man sitting inside a gray sedan with Bertholdt's green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making it short, rushed and posting it late! I've been dealing with a few headaches since this morning! I hope you liked it anyway:]


	12. Just Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt is getting used to having an actual, genuine boyfriend and true friends who stand by him despite all his flaws and weaknesses. But Reiner has a plan, a secret he cannot tell Bertholdt.

Bertholdt was giddy, but for the first time in a long time, he was giddy with delight.

  "Hey, hey," Reiner laughed, taking the milkshake from him. "You're supposed to share that."

  "Sorry," Bertholdt winced, guilt washing over him. "I meant to... but..."

  "No need to apologise, cutie," Reiner plucked his chin, grinning. "I did tell you that this place had orgasmic milkshakes. Here, let me have a taste."

  "Wha--"

In the middle of the diner, in front of possibly twenty other patrons, Reiner actually  _French-_ kissed his boyfriend. The shock and embarrassment of actually being part of the PDA people so often looked down on was immediately dissolved in a sea of warmth and curling toes as Reiner's tongue tangoed with Bertholdt's.

  "Orgasmic, alright," Reiner licked his lips with a wicked grin when they finally came up for air. Bertholdt was flushed an endearing shade of pink, and his expression was dazed, like someone only half out of a dream.

Enjoying his boyfriend's expression stupefied bliss, Reiner slipped an arm around Bertholdt's waist and finished off the meagre remains of the milkshake they were  _supposed_ to be sharing, blithely oblivious to the not-quite-hidden stares of their fellow patrons. Gay couples weren't exactly  _rare_  in this district, but they were never quite as flamboyant or openly affectionate as Reiner and Bertholdt were being now.

  "Hello? Anyone home?" the blonde waved a hand in front of Bertholdt's face, teasing.

  "How could you... aren't you scared of...?" Bertholdt stammered, darting a glance at the patrons. They quickly looked away, back to minding their own business. They'd seen him. Kissing Reiner. Kissing a  _boy_. This wasn't normal. They were going to--

  "I can actually hear the gears in that brain of yours going too fast for my comfort," Reiner poked Bertholdt's waist, and he jumped like a wound-up toy. "Slow down. Focus on me."

Bertholdt looked at his boyfriend--  _boyfriend_ , he thought giddily again--and found it easier and easier to smile every time he did.

  "There we go," Reiner murmured, brushing his lips over Berthldt's.

They were about to make out in the diner, and make the other twenty odd patrons very uncomfortable as anyone would around any PDA-ing couple, and having their very first date. Bertholdt thought he'd never live to have one. Not since... well, they were having it now, and Bertholdt had been quivering with excited anticipation all day since Reiner had asked him during lunch if he would like to have a date after school. Since it was a no-training day, Reiner was free to kidnap Bertholdt to the local diner, where the blonde claimed they had the best burgers around for miles and 'orgasmic' milkshakes.

But while Bertholdt was content and enjoying his first date (Reiner really just wanted to take this crazily adorable boy home and kiss him stupid and perhaps-- no, definitely move for more), the blonde was concealing darker thoughts of his own.

The surveillance cameras he installed had proven useful: he'd checked the feed this morning, and had been grimly unsurprised to see a grey sedan idling across the street. It had been a little grainy to see the driver, but Reiner didn't have to speculate because the driver himself emerged to walk across the street and knock on the door with less courtesy than you'd expect from a man unfamiliar with the residence. He  _banged_ on the door of his fist, and even raised his voice to an angry shout. The surveillance cameras didn't give noise feedback, so he could only guess what he was yelling. The only surprise was how none of the Brauns or Annie or Bertholdt, sleeping just next door, could hear him. He then tried to knock the door down, but to little success. The man was built like what he was: an arrogant, bigoted, self-entitled asshole. He had a beer belly, and his hair was balding. The only sign that he was even remotely related to the blushing, giggling and cute sweetheart sitting in front of Reiner now was his leaf-green eyes. Yet where Bertholdt's eyes were bright with the delight of being on his first date with his first boyfriend, Djel Fubar's were vicious and brutal.

He knew better than to tell Bertholdt that the human-shaped, walking and breathing piece of shit that was his biological father had tried to pay them a visit. Apparently he hadn't been stalking them long, or he would have seen them moving over to the Braun's in the late afternoon.

  "Reiner?" Bertholdt's apprehensive question brought the brawny youth back to the present. "Is... is everything alright?"

Reiner looked at this boy in front of him, who had so much hope, so much love, and deserved so much more than what he had received in the last two months. He caressed Bertholdt's cheek, wondering why and how anyone could ever see him as a threat, or as anything less than a sweetheart, and his heart clenched with the solemn vow that  _no one_ would ever hurt him again.

  "Everything is going to be alright," Reiner promised Bertholdt, and kissed him on the forehead, then the lips. " _Everything_."

* * *

 

  "What are you talking about?"

Just two hours ago, Bertholdt had been bubbling with happiness, delight and excitement. Now, in the shotgun seat of Reiner's Jeep with the blonde holding both his hands firmly, all he could feel was chagrin, terror and dread.

  "We have a match with Titan Academy in a week," Reiner repeated, never once letting the taller youth look away from his intense gaze. "It's a home game. I want you to be there, to watch."

  "But... why?" Bertholdt felt the clammy hand of panic reach up out of a dark well that he'd hoped to forget permanently, and grip his ankle, threatening to pull him back down. "I thought..."  _I thought you wanted to keep me safe. You said you'd keep me safe. You promised._

 "Listen to me,' Reiner narrowed his gaze, knowing any second now that Bertholdt was going to start having an anxiety attack if he didn't explain quickly. "I want you to watch because we are going to kick their asses so hard, that you'll have closure. I want you to see that Titan Academy is nothing to be afraid of. That they're not as mighty and as powerful as you've been forced to think, and they can be taken down more than just one peg. Promise me you'll be there."

  "Reiner..." Bertholdt calmed down with the realisation that his boyfriend  _did_ want to protect him. Reiner just wanted him to have closure. "I don't..." _  
_

"I'll feel better knowing you're in the bleachers, within sight," Reiner continued. "And Marco and Armin will be on either side of you. They don't really have the qualifications to be bodyguards, but they'll be solid friends you can count on. And once the match is over, I'll come find you. Okay, burrito?"

Bertholdt found himself growing oddly fond of the nickname. It represented his new life at Trost High, where people  _accepted_ him, sexual orientation and all. "Okay."

  "Good," Reiner kissed the back of Bertholdt's hands, an intimate gesture that made the green-eyed boy feel infinitely better. "Now, let's forsake all hope of privacy and poison ourselves on my mom's cooking."

  "It's not that bad," Bertholdt protested. It was fantastic, but the running joke in the Braun's house, as Bertholdt had come to learn, was that everyone in the family had stomachs of steel after years of enduring Mrs. Braun's absentminded use of expired ingredients. He had yet to feel the effects, so he assumed she was taking better care now that she had guests.

  "Berwick's class once ate moldy muffins," Reiner said dryly, hand clasped around Bertholdt's as they walked up to the front door. "And while everyone had to nurse stomach bugs and vomiting for--  _get down!_ "

Too stunned to move, Bertholdt let his boyfriend tackle him to the ground. Reiner's hand cupped the back of his head before it hit the cement driveway, and took most of the impact of what would have given him a concussion and a bleeding head wound. All the while, a brick sailed past his eyes and clipped the back of Reiner's blond head to crack against the wall of the Brauns' residence.

There was the sound of car tires peeling off against the road, and when he looked, an all-too familiar gray sedan was driving off.

  "Are you okay?" Reiner's harsh breathing was warm on Bertholdt's cheek, his arms tight around his waist and back. "Bertholdt, are you okay?"

The darker-haired boy could only stare glassily after his father.  _My dad just tried to kill me. My dad. He wanted me dead. He tried to kill me._

  "Bertholdt," Reiner sat up and cradled his boyfriend in his arms. "Look at me. Babe, I mean it. Snap out of your funk. Look. At. Me."

And Bertholdt started to cry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Djel Fubar is a fucking meatsack and he should be barbecued in the depths of Hell.


	13. Hold On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Djel Fubar is a dickshit, Titan Academy is a hellhole of bigoted twats and Reiner is determined that neither will ever harm Bertholdt ever again.

By the time Bertholdt's hysterical sobbing had calmed down to muffled whimpers against Reiner's shoulder, it was nearly midnight. The blonde had soothed, murmured words of solace, stroked, hugged and kissed away as many tears as he could. He comforted and cuddled, while inside him a deep-rooted and savage urge to murder Djel Fubar in the most painful way known to man.

Reiner had carried Bertholdt through the front door of the Brauns' house, sidestepping his mother (Mr. Braun and Annie were still at work, fortunately) and hurrying into the privacy of his own room. When everyone else had come home, Mrs. Braun had told them to give the boys time alone, and Reiner gave thanks for his mother's insight. Even if it didn't extend to her awareness of expiry dates.

Now, as everyone settled in for the night, Annie poked her head around the door to check on them, her face drawn with worry.

  "Is he alright?" she whispered. "What happened?"

Reiner got up to talk to her outside the door, without Bertholdt hearing so he wouldn't panic at the reminder of how his own  _father_ had tried to kill him. But when he disengaged the taller boy from himself, Bertholdt had whimpered in protest and fright, clutching at his sweater.

  "Easy, babe," Reiner bent down and kissed his forehead, running his fingers through his boyfriend's floppy hair. "I'm just gonna be a sec, okay?"

  "Reiner," Bertholdt shook his head, tears streaking his face. "No. Don't go."

Annie smiled wearily. "It's alright, Reiner. Whatever needs to be discussed, it can be discussed tomorrow. For now... neither of you have eaten yet, right?"

  "I think we're both good," Reiner nodded. "Don't worry, Annie. Get some rest."

After she'd left, Reiner climbed back into bed. Bertholdt crawled into his arms, and curled up like a cat with Reiner's hand rubbing his back in slow, even circles. It would not have done this petrified boy any good for Reiner to repeat the whole incident within earshot.

  "Reiner," Bertholdt looked up at the londe with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the fear of it in his eyes. "Is... is everything going to be okay?"

Reiner wanted to ease his burden, to vanquish that fear completely. "Yes, burrito. Everything is going to be okay.  _You're_ going to be okay. Just focus on me. Breathe."

  "It happened, didn't it?" Bertholdt shuddered, his eyes squeezing shut. "My dad..."

  " _Shh_ ," Reiner covered the taller boy's lips with his finger. "It happened. But you're okay. I'm here, babe."

Bertholdt gave a shuddery sigh, and within minutes he was snuffling in his sleep. Reiner didn't stop rubbing his back, wide awake from too much adrenaline pumping in his system and too much anger churning in his mind. He drew up the covers around Bertholdt's shoulders, and reached for his phone on the nightstand. Keeping his voice low, he called the police.

  "Hi, this is Reiner Braun," he said quietly. "I'd like to report an attempt to seriously injure or kill Bertholdt Fubar. The site of the incident is No. 2 Shinganshina Avenue. The person who made the attempt is Djel Fubar, and he is driving a gray Honda Civic sedan. The car plate number is..."

* * *

 

Jean and Marco were waiting outside Reiner's house the next morning.

Jean was wearing his trademark red beanie (Bertholdt could now easily imagine that he owned plenty of those since he was never without it) and a very grouchy expression, drinking deeply from a trenta-sized to-go cup of coffee. He had his other hand around Marco's waist, and the freckled youth was leaning into his boyfriend's warmth.

  "Thanks for coming," Reiner said grimly, bundling Bertholdt out into the cold morning. "But I wouldn't have made you guys come out earlier if it wasn't for a good reason."

  "Someone had better be dead," Jean muttered. "Preferably someone from Titan Academy."

Bertholdt shivered, and it wasn't because he was cold.

  "Worse," Reiner was all-business, no trace of good humour in his face. Jean instantly got the mood. "Bertholdt's dad was stalking him. He tried to aim for Bertholdt with a brick, of all things. He drove off before we could get the fucking bastard."

  "Took the words right out of my mouth," Jean sighed. "I'll settle for calling him a  _fils de_ _pute_ , then."

  "Either way," Reiner continued. "We now know for sure the asshole wants to get at Bertholdt, and since the game is coming up and most of the muscle will be on the field, this means Marco and Armin will have to be extra-on guard."

  "We'll keep an eye out," Marco assured him, giving Bertholdt an understanding smile.

Bertholdt managed a weak smile of his own, glad that Reiner was holding his hand so he didn't panic at the reminder that his own father was trying to kill him. The blonde's touch was working miracles; it felt like what had happened yesterday had happened in another life. Watching Reiner take charge for his safety was centralising his mind with hope that this was all really going to work out.

  "Now that that's settled," Reiner checked his watch. "We missed homeroom, and we've got five minutes to make it to class. First period's with Mrs. Nanaba."

  " _Merde,_ " Jean swore.

They exceeded the speed limit trying to make it to class in time, and only just barely made it. Reiner and Jean rushed off, dropping kisses on their boyfriends and yelling as they charged down the hallway: "See you at lunch, _mon chéri_ /burrito!"

Bertholdt and Marco, with no class till 9, stood in the foyer of the school, dazed. 

  "Well," Marco chuckled. "Shall we hit the books in the library?"

  "Mm," Bertholdt nodded, still blushing.

Making small, polite conversation as they walked towards their lockers, they were blithely unaware that they were not the only ones who had free period. Or that some people still harboured bigoted resentment.

  "Hey, faggot freak," a sophomore boy wearing a baseball cap backwards body-slammed Marco against the lockers, flanked by two goons who looked just as pretentious as he did. "Thought I told you to stay out of my way."

  "Marco!" Bertholdt helped the handicapped boy to his feet, heart pounding as he realised that not  _everyone_ was so accepting in this school. Some of them were like the people back in Titan Academy...

 _Don't you dare have a panic attack now_ , Bertholdt thought with a fierceness he never thought he would have in him.  _Don't you let them break you_ or  _your friends. Marco is your friend. You_ have  _to help him. You can't be weak. You can't always let other people protect you._

 "Didn't hear me the first time, huh?" the sophomore sneered, his friends laughing as Marco coughed. He looked at Bertholdt, momentarily intimidated by his height, but then quickly sensing that the taller youth was harmless and weak for all his stature. "Who's this? Another fuck buddy?"

 _Enough_.

Threatening him was one thing, but Marco was Bertholdt's friend now. A cold sensation washed over him, and he felt a fiery courage loosen his tongue.

  "Is that what you think?" Bertholdt barely recognised his own calm, measured voice; it was like someone else was talking, but sounded like him. "Well, maybe Jean would like to hear your opinions. Or perhaps even Reiner. I assume the three of you are interested in scoring a position on the sports team, and as many girls as you can get. How do you think you're going to fare when Jean and Reiner hear about this?"

  "Don't be so sure of yourself," the sophomore laughed, but his bravado was shaken. "Freckled Faggot Freak here, we made sure to tell him that if he ever tattled on us... he'd regret it. And we're gonna make you the same promise."

_You're okay._

_Focus on me._

_Breathe._

 "We'll see if you can uphold your end of the promise when Reiner and Jean are through with you two," Bertholdt replied, gaze narrowing and drawing himself up to his full height.

The three boys blanched, and the friends yanked at the lead bully's arm. "Dude, let's bail."

They hurried away, and the minute they were out of sight, Bertholdt's knees gave way and he collapsed. His heart was going harder than a jackhammer at full power, ricocheting off his ribcage and pounding in his ears. Cold sweat had broken out all over his body, and he was surprised he wasn't about to black out, as giddy as he was. He couldn't believe what he had just done.

But he'd done it. He'd protected his friend. He looked over at Marco as he panted and hoped his friend had not taken too much damage.

  "Wow," Marco rasped, rubbing the shoulder that had taken most of the impact against the lockers. "Never knew you had it in you to threaten other people."

Bertholdt was about to apologise, until he realised that the freckled boy was joking. He smiled faintly, and struggled to his feet. Marco got up as well, and for a brief moment, they just took it all in. Bertholdt wanted to cry, but for an entirely different reason now. He wanted to cry tears of happiness. He'd stood up for someone, even if he couldn't stand up for himself. He was okay. Reiner was right.

Everything was going to be okay.

Marco patted his shoulder, smiling that sweet half-smile of his. "Thank you."

  "No," Bertholdt smiled back, a genuine, bright smile with unshed tears of gratitude and joy shining in his eyes. "Thank  _you_."

 


	14. Have Faith

  "Hey, babe," Reiner appeared behind Bertholdt and dropped a kiss on the crown of his head. "Heard you stood up to Greg Bigelow on behalf of Marco this morning."

  "He did," Marco winked. Or, in the way a boy with only one eye could. "My hero."

  "Careful there, burrito," Jean pretended to growl, slipping in to the seat beside Marco at the cafeteria table and nipping Marco's earlobe. "I'm  _very_ territorial."

  "So am I," Reiner smiled and bent down to nibble at Bertholdt's collarbone under his sweater. Bertholdt blushed furiously as Reiner slid in beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. "You did good, burrito."

  "Thanks," Bertholdt leaned against Reiner, and felt the forlorn feeling of loneliness that Marco could not get rid of even with their strong friendship now, dissolve into quiet happiness. "I had help."

Reiner raised an eyebrow, but Bertholdt just smiled and didn't elaborate. Instead, he just opened his lunch bag, courtesy of Mrs. Braun. She had brushed off his thanks, saying one more in the brood made no difference and she pointedly remarked that she wished her other kids could be as effusive in their gratitude. Reiner just rolled his eyes and hurried Bertholdt out the door.

  "Grilled ham and cheese," Reiner chewed the sandwich, an exact same one as Bertholdt's. "Mom must either be feeling generous or the cheese must be past its expiration date."

  "Your mom could poison someone with that cooking of hers," Jean grimaced, and Marco mumbled his agreement around a mouthful of food.

Lunch passed too quickly for Bertholdt; he wished he had more classes with Reiner besides just homeroom, but he counted himself lucky. Marco didn't have any classes with Jean at all, not since he'd be held back a year. Armin, Eren, Connie, Sasha, Ymir and Christa joined them, bringing along their rambunctious jokes and antics. All the while, Reiner had kept an arm around Bertholdt's waist, even if it meant having only one free hand to eat and bump fists.

  "The game is tomorrow evening," Reiner cut the conversation short by getting serious, his hold on Bertholdt's waist tightening as a reminder to the taller, paling boy that it was going to be okay. "I know you guys all want to rest up, but the fact is that Titan Academy isn't just renowned for their grades. They almost had us last year, until King Horse-Face here managed to tackle two offensives on his own to open up the path  _and_ hold down the quarterback so Prince Anger-Management Issues could score."

Jean preened as Eren protested his lower rank of prince.

  "But it was a close shave, so don't let it get to your heads," Reiner warned. "Titan Academy will have been training for this match as much as we have. They'll know all our tricks and habits, since this is nearly the last game for the season. They'll have been watching us."

Bertholdt shivered, but Reiner's hand was warm on his hip.

  "I want all of us putting in extra training today," Reiner held up a hand before the protests got any louder. "I know it's usually habit to rest a day before, but this game has important meaning. I'm asking a lot of you guys, and it's a selfish request. But I really need us to win this game. Not for me. For Bertholdt."

Everyone's gaze settled on Bertholdt, and he ducked his head, embarrassed. But instead of blaming or accusing him, everyone cheered.

  "Titan Academy is  _so_ going down!" Connie whooped.

  "They're all going to burn in Hell!" Eren shouted.

  "Armin, I need you and Marco to watch out for Bertholdt for me," Reiner said. He relayed the previous day's incident to the group, and they quickly sobered. "Sasha, I need you sitting behind him in case anyone comes up on them in their blind spot."

  "What about us?" Ymir asked lazily, referring to herself and Christa.

  "You can move about during the game, but stay close to Bertholdt on the bleachers," Reiner instructed. "But after the game, I need you on close detail. Make sure Bertholdt isn't alone until I get away from the after-game debriefing. All clear?"

Bertholdt could see why Reiner was captain: he not only played big brother and best friend to all of them, but also solid leader with a plan they could work around. And he was Bertholdt's boyfriend.

The taller boy smile, feeling his heart sing despite the menace that threatened.

* * *

 

The football field was teeming with people, most of them students of Trost High and wearing the colours of the Wings of Freedom, with 104th emblazoned on the backs of their shirts. It was all so familiar to Bertholdt, yet not. He remembered playing basketball and the stands filled to bursting with people cheering him on... he shook his head. That was another life. A painful life he'd chosen to leave behind.

He focussed on Reiner, giving his team a pep talk while Levi added in observations of the other team across the field. He looked so handsome, so muscular, so... Bertholdt's. He had his helmet under his left arm, and gestured with his right. His face, all masculine features and strong lines. Nothing like Daz's weak jaw. Looking back, Bertholdt wondered why he had ever found him interesting, much less worthy of a crush. He was absolutely nothing like Reiner.

  "You okay?" Marco rest a concerned hand on Bertholdt's arm.

  "Mm," Bertholdt nodded, only noticing now that he was twisting his fingers anxiously. He quickly stopped fidgeting and gave Marco a reassuring smile. It was 40 degrees Farenheit out this evening, and Bertholdt was wrapped up in three layers of coats, sweaters and T-shirts at Reiner's insistence. The blonde was apparently wearing two layers of underwear, and Jean had rolled his eyes, so Bertholdt assumed it was a natural habit. But for all the cold weather, Bertholdt was sweating. And it wasn't because of the three layers of clothing.

He spotted some of the people on the opposing team, and in the opposite bleachers. He slouched down, wishing he could disappear when he recognised them. That was the boy who had held his head down the toilet... and the girl who had once sat next to him in History class until she heard and she asked to change seats so she didn't catch homosexuality... the three juniors who beat him up every lunch period... Bertholdt was already feeling sick to the stomach when he took the final blow: Daz was sitting among them, and he had seen Bertholdt.

 _Please don't,_ was Bertholdt's useless, desperate wish.  _Please don't--_

Daz curled his lip in a disgusted sneer, and immediately turned to whisper to the kid beside him. It spread like a wildfire among the supporters, and pretty soon all of them were giving him looks that varied between abhorrence, contempt and hatred.

_You're okay._

_Focus on me._

_Everything is going to be alright._

_Breathe._

_Focus. On. Me._

Bertholdt inhaled shakily, and looked towards Reiner, only to see that they had all donned their helmets and he couldn't distinguish... ah, there. The jersey number of the captain was emblazoned across his back: 1. He disliked the number, preferring 2, but tradition was tradition.

He greedily sucked in the sight of Reiner as a support, wishing he could be in his arms and shielded from the increasingly piercing glares and stares of his former schoolmates.

Marco and Armin, noticing the situation, quickly held his hands. He looked at them in surprise, and gave them a weak smile of gratitude. It wasn't much by way of comfort, but it was all they could offer and Berthodlt was thankful that at the very least, they were on his side and he wasn't alone.

  "They're all jerks," Armin said fiercely. It was the worst insult the intelligent boy with an IQ of over 180 could think of, and it made Bertholdt's smile a little more genuine.

  "Game's starting," Marco warned.

The shrill blow of the whistle scraped at Bertholdt's fraying nerves. He didn't understand football, and had never tried to. He never realised understanding the game was so important until now, when he was watching people getting tackled, people tackling, the ball sailing through the air and all he perceived was madness. Violent, body-contact madness.

Every time the whistle went off, it grated at Bertholdt's ears and he would quickly look towards the scoreboard as he held his breath. The Titans had won the first point, but Trost High struck back with a vengeance the Titans could never possibly comprehend. They were motivated by more than a wish for victory. They wanted blood, in return for Bertholdt's suffering.

The 104th led by a margin of 7 points, and Bertholdt's heart was in his throat as he felt the bleachers tremble beneath him when everyone cheered on the home team. He couldn't keep his eyes of Reiner, shouting orders and instructions, making seemingly impossible agile manoeuvres with his brawny build. Yet the gap between the scores diminished with every blow of the whistle, and Bertholdt found himself clutching at Armin's and Marco's hands in fear.

Then right before the end of the game, with the Titans just a point behind, Eren lost his cool. 

The linebacker on the other team actually had the gall to  _punch_ him in the stomach when he didn't have the ball.

The referee blew the whistle just as Jean and Connie managed to get ahold of Eren and stop him from brawling so the referee could flag him without the angered offensive tackle getting in the way. For that alone, they got to move towards the offending team's zone by about 10 yards.

The whistle went off, ear-splitting even though Bertholdt was far from the referee. He could barely watch, as most of the 104th got tackled in the Titan's last-ditch effort... and Reiner emerged like a hero... without the ball. But the Titans fell for the ruse, assuming from the way that Reiner ran with his arm curled against his side that he did. They peeled off for him, and Jean stood up with the damn thing. Too late, some of the Titans reversed for Jean, but with a cuss shouted in French, he slung the ball as hard as he could. It spun through the air, and everyone leapt to their feet... and Reiner caught the ball and slammed it on the ground just as Titans jumped him.

The timer went off, and so did the whistle.

 _We won_ , Bertholdt thought dazedly as people leapt up screaming around him, cheering and shouting and celebrating the win for the season. He looked at the opposite bleachers, and saw all the faces that had once been riddle with hatred now twisted with misery and grieving anger. He felt strangely satisfied, no longer frightened. The Titan football team themselves had taken off their helmets and their faces, which Bertholdt had once feared with a terror that made him cry, were lined with dejection and exhaustion.

_I want you to see that Titan Academy is nothing to be afraid of. That they're not as mighty and as powerful as you've been forced to think, and they can be taken down more than just one peg._

Reiner had done it. He'd given Bertholdt his closure, the peace he felt now on the inside as he cheered with his friends. His eyes automatically sought out the bright golden eyes, the muscly build, the close-cropped cap of shining blond hair. The taller youth was overcome with a mighty need to embrace his boyfriend when he found him, taking off his helmet and thrown onto the shoulders of his teammates as they whooped and cheered for his leading them to victory. Without a word to Marco or Armin, he peeled off, anxious to be in Reiner's arms. He wanted to celebrate with him, to kiss him, to thank him for--

  "Ugh!"

Bertholdt winced as someone yanked him out of the crowd and pinned him against the wall of the parking lot, where there was absolutely no one. No one except Bertholdt and his father.

Djel Fubar had gotten uglier since the last time Bertholdt saw him, and that only terrified him more. The last time he'd seen his father face to face, the man had been pummelling Bertholdt with his belt, his fists, his feet, as if he wished he could kill his own son. And after the incident the day before, Bertholdt had come to the conclusion that he  _had_ been trying to kill him. Biological and familial ties didn't even register in Djel Fubar's mind when he was told his son was a homosexual. Now Bertholdt was just a stranger, a stain he wanted to get rid of, believing that once Bertholdt was gone, he could get his life back. His career. His money.

  "Fucking queer," Djel Fubar's breath was laced with alcohol, and there was a madness in his eyes that petrified Bertholdt. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you!"

He slammed Bertholdt against the wall repeated, shouting that he was going to murder his own son, that he had ruined his life. Bertholdt struggled until Djel Fubar smashed the back of his head against the wall the third time, and he grew weaker and weaker, and his arms fell limply to his side. Blood was trickling down the back of his neck and he heard rather than felt the sickening crunch of bone, but he didn't feel any pain as his head went fuzzy and dim. His father didn't stop slamming him against the wall, didn't stop yelling.

Bertholdt's mind feebly reached out for Reiner.  _Where are you? You said... you said you'd keep me safe... You said I was going to be okay... Reiner... I-I'm not okay..._

He passed out just as he heard Reiner's voice elevated in fury, but it was so very far away, and Bertholdt let the darkness swallow him because it was soft, and it took the pain away.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know absolutely nothing about football, so pardon all the stupid inaccuracies. I literally know jack shit.


	15. I'm So Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner tries to rescue Bertholdt, but is it too late?

  "Reiner! Let up, dude! You're going to kill him!"

But Reiner didn't hear Jean and Connie, or even Eren. All he could feel was the nauseating crunch of bone under his fist, as he punched Djel Fubar's face in. He struck again and again, as the bastard had struck Bertholdt again and again. He would never be satisfied until this man was dead by his hands. He kept one hand on the fleshy throat, throttling as he relentlessly pounded the man's face in until the only sign that he was human was the fact that he had four flailing limbs. His nose was so badly broken, it didn't even look like a nose, and both eyes were swollen shut so Reiner didn't have to see the family resemblance. His cheekbones were shattered under Reiner's knuckles, and his mouth was a bloody mess of broken teeth and bleeding gums.

He kept hitting and punching and pummelling, fuelled by blind rage.

  "Help me pull him off the bastard!" Jean called out to the team, and with some difficulty even as a team effort, they managed to drag their furious captain off. None of them had ever seen him quite this angry, not even when Eren had committed two fouls in one game. They had to hold him down before he jumped on Djel Fubar again.

  "Let me go!" Reiner spat. "I'm going to fucking kill him!"

  "And what good would that do Bertholdt?" Jean jerked his chin at the boy in question, who was slumped against the wall with Nene attending to him. Reiner finally went still, and the team gingerly released him.

He stumbled over to Bertholdt, who was unconscious and had blood snaking down the back of his neck. He was so deathly white, nothing like the blushing sweetheart Reiner adored.

  "Bertholdt," Reiner choked, taking his limp hand. He was so cold. "Bertholdt, wake up. Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Nene had taken out her cellphone, having recognised the signs of possible brain damage. The back of his skull was likely to be fractured, and there was high chance the brain was haemorrhaging. She quickly called for an ambulance, but Reiner didn't hear her. He didn't hear anything, feel anything, see anything. Except Bertholdt.

  "Bertholdt," Reiner wanted to touch him, but he was so afraid that the boy would break if he did. Instead, he gripped his hand tighter, praying madly that he would squeeze Reiner's hand back, a sign that he was still there. "I'm so sorry."

Bertholdt didn't.

Grief and madness jumped into Reiner's throat, and he spun around to look for Djel Fubar. The murderous intent was pumping in his blood vessels, and he lurched towards the groaning, pulp-faced heap of a man.

  "Reiner, stop it!" Jean grabbed his captain in a lock. "We've already called the cops!"

Reiner didn't say anything; he just struggled against Jean's hold and managed a very sharp kick at Djel Fubar's crotch. The bastard actually  _squealed_ in pain, a disgusting gurgle of noise from his nearly-asphyxiated throat. Jean unsuccessfully stifled a snigger.

Sirens filled the air around them, casting blue and red lights on the scene and paramedics gently lifted Bertholdt onto a gurney, careful not to jostle his head for fear of worsening the damage already done. Reiner stopped straining against Jean's hold, and hurried after Bertholdt.

  "Are you family?" the paramedic demanded.

  "Just let him on, you idiot!" Levi appeared out of nowhere, snapping at the paramedic in a voice that left no room for further discussion.

Reiner climbed aboard the ambulance, and gave his coach a grateful look as the doors closed and the vehicle pulled away with sirens still blaring. The paramedics bustled around Bertholdt, checking his vitals, examining the injury and shouting details to inform the ER in advance.

  "Hey, Bertholdt," Reiner pressed the taller boy's palm to his lips, whispering words that he himself could barely hear in the paramedics'  hubbub. "Babe, wake up. Look at me. Focus on me. Breathe."

Bertholdt didn't respond, and Reiner felt his blood, so heated up with adrenaline from the game and beating the shit out of Djel Fubar, turn to ice. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't breathe. He began to rock where he sat, mouthing nonsense against Bertholdt's palm. His eyes stung with unshed tears, and he was so, so numb.

Then all in a rush, the ambulance jerked to a halt, and Bertholdt was whisked away from him in a flurry if white coats, clipboards and stethoscopes. He staggered into the ER, pushing people out of the way so he could follow his boyfriend.

 _I was supposed to protect him_ , Reiner thought dizzily.  _I was supposed to make sure everything was going to be okay. I promised._   _I promised._

But he'd broken his promise. Bertholdt was not okay. Nothing was okay. 

He collapsed on the floor of the ER and began to sob.

* * *

The Braun family kept Annie and Reiner company in the waiting lounge outside the surgical room where Bertholdt was being operated on. There had been no news, except the description of the wound, and the extent of the damage. Annie, strong and brave Annie who didn't even cry when she told Reiner what had happened to Bertholdt, had burst into tears and wailed in agony.

Reiner had run out of tears by the time Annie and the Brauns heard the news and rushed to the hospital. He was numb, and didn't respond to any questions or words of comfort. Not even Annie's tearful shouts and shaking of his shoulders could do anything about it.

They sat in silence, Mrs. Braun praying constantly with Berwick and Tomas sleeping with their heads in her lap. The two youngest Brauns had been too frightened by the smell of antiseptic that stung their noses, and the harshness of the fluorescent lights. 

  "Um... are you Bertholdt Fubar's family?" an exhausted surgeon still in scrubs emerged.

Everyone except Reiner hurtled to their feet, desperate and eager for good news.

 _I broke my promise_.

That was all Reiner could think as he stayed slumped in his chair. He'd been so busy rejoicing the win with his team, glad to have crushed Bertholdt's feared enemy, planning how to celebrate with the gentle giant in private. He never saw Bertholdt slipping away from his victory-distracted friends, and hadn't noticed until it was much too late.  

No matter how Bertholdt had fared, he would never forgive himself for it.

 


	16. I Lost You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt is hurt, and Reiner hurts for him.

The beeping noise was annoying, but familiar to Bertholdt's ears.

 _I need to wake up now,_ Bertholdt thought groggily without lifting his leaden eyelids.  _Class.. first period's Trigonometry with Ms. Gimlins, I don't think I did my homework...? Oh crap... I forgot to text Charlene good morning. Wonder what's for lunch... I hope it's lasagna on the menu. Ugh, I have training today. I didn't pack my gear yet... I wonder if I'm partnered with Daz again. I hope so..._

Bertholdt slowly opened his eyes, albeit reluctantly. It was another day, and a training day to boot. He might be first-string, but the privilege came with exhausting responsibilities that involved training the juniors and extra practice hours. He winced as his head throbbed as painfully as if he'd have a hangover. But he didn't remember drinking last night so why...? And was his ceiling always this white? He didn't remember having fluorescent lights installed. This  _wasn't_ his room.

He jolted awake immediately, and looked around frantically. Where was he? Why was he breathing through an oxygen mask? And why did his head _hurt so much?_ There were machines all around him, and that was what had been making the beeping noise that sounded like his alarm clock. He was hooked up to them at his wrists, the crook of his elbow, his heart. It seemed like there were wires trailing from all over his body.

A nurse was checking his vitals, and she gasped upon noticing that he was awake. "Oh! How are you feeling?"

  "Wha-where am I?" Bertholdt asked, his mouth sandy and gross. He felt like crap, and he told the nurse so.

  "I'll go get the doctor," she handed him a glass of water after she helped him take off the mask. "Drink this."

She hurried away, the orthopaedic soles soundless on the ground. Bertholdt winced as the wound throbbed again, wondering what he'd done to make it hurt so much. Maybe he got hit by a basketball? It happened all the time, especially when he was careless, but it had never caused such a serious injury to warrant a trip to the  _hospital_. 

Then his mom burst in through the door, her normally neat hair in disarray and her pale blue eyes bloodshot with fatigue. There were dark circles under them and wrinkles lining her face that he'd never seen before. How could his mom have aged so much in such a short time? He'd seen her just last night at dinner, and she looked tense but perfectly fine otherwise. Well, she was always tense around his father, even if he never understood why. To be perfectly honest, he was kind of on edge around his dad too. He never seemed pleased with Bertholdt, like no matter what he did was good enough. Not straight As, not winning basketball games, nothing. He looked at Bertholdt like he was a walking disappointment.

  "Bertholdt," Annie cupped his face with a desperation he didn't understand. "How're you feeling? Does anything hurt?"

  "Mom? I'm fine, my head just hurts a little," Bertholdt insisted. "What happened? Why am I in the hospital?"

Her already-white face turned even paler. "Y-you don't remember?"

There was a hubbub outside, and a bunch of people Bertholdt didn't recognise filled the room. They looked like a big family, with a girl about 14 years old and two boys still not yet 12. The youngest one climbed onto his bed, ignoring the wires and tears streaking his face. He had tawny gold eyes and his chin was wobbling.

  "Burrito!" he hugged Bertholdt like they were best friends that had been separated for forever.

 _Burrito?_ Bertholdt felt his brow wrinkle as the boy sobbed all over his sheets.  _What in the world...?_

  "Where's Reiner?" Annie asked the parents of the wailing boy on his bed.

 _Who's Reiner?_ Bertholdt wondered. His mom was usually so strong and independent, and it always seemed like she didn't need anyone, like she'd be better off on her own. It had always been a fear that Bertholdt harboured, that his mom would finally get fed up and leave him with his dad. But she was calling out to this person like she relied on him a lot, and Bertholdt wondered... if this was his mom's new boyfriend. Was she having an affair? Was  _that_ why she was always so tense around his dad all the time?

  "He... Reiner hasn't moved at all," the other older woman said hesitantly, wringing the hem of her shirt. "I think he's afraid."

  "Bertholdt," Annie made him look at her. She looked so intense, so fearful. Bertholdt had never seen her like that. What was going on? "Honey, do you recognise them?"

She gestured to the family that had crowded in after her. They looked at him with such genuine concern and worry, but he really didn't recognise them. It seemed like  _they_ did, though. They appeared to be nice people, and Bertholdt's heart gave a twinge of regret as he saw their faces fall when he shook his head.

  "Mom, what's going on?" Bertholdt was completely thrown. "What happened?"

  "Oh, God," Annie collapsed on the plastic foldable chair beside his bed. She put her head in her hands. "The doctor said this might happen."

The woman clapped her hands over her mouth and gasped in horror. "You mean he...?"

  "Burrito?" the small boy stopped sobbing long enough to look up at him with teary eyes. "Are you okay?"

Bertholdt stared at this boy with brilliant gold eyes. "Who are you?"

Annie gripped his hand, surprising him with the strength behind it while the boy began another round of loud sobbing on his lap. "Bertholdt, what is the last thing you remember?"

  "Umm..." Bertholdt racked his brains, as if they weren't already aching as it is. "We had potato salad for dinner last night... I have first period with Ms. Gimlins today for Trig. I have basketball training after school."

She seemed to be struggling to breathe, and Bertholdt was alarmed. "Mom?"

  "What... what date do you think it is?" she managed to ask.

  "Uh... October something? I forget," he shrugged. Dates always slipped his mind, and he was only aware of whether it was summer or winter because of the temperatures. "Seriously, Mom. What's going on? Why are you acting all weird? And what does the date have to do with anything?"

She inhaled shakily. "Bertl, sweetheart... it's January the 16th."

* * *

His family had pushed to see Bertholdt, having heard that he was awake. It was nearly four in the morning now, and Reiner hadn't moved since Bertholdt had been wheeled into surgery. He kept going over and over the same thing in his head.

_I broke my promise._

_He's not okay._

_I broke my promise._

He had clenched his fists so tightly that the knuckles threatened to split through the bruised skin. The itch to murder Djel Fubar was still there. If the police let a bastard like him walk free... well, they'd find his body at the bottom of a sewer somewhere ten years from now with his genitals ripped off and every bone in his body broken. But killing Djel wouldn't undo the fact that he'd broken his promise.

_Everything is going to be okay._

_You're going to be okay._

Nothing was okay. He inhaled a deep, shuddery breath. A man was only as good as his word, and now that he'd failed to keep his promise... what did that make him? He was even worse than Djel now. He couldn't even protect the one boy he loved, despite all the oaths he'd made to the gentle, frightened giant. _Big words_ , he scoffed at himself. He was practically puffing like a salesman, merely full of empty promises. But Bertholdt had been capable of giving so much more, and deserved to be loved.

But not by him.

He fisted his hands against his knee, belatedly realising that he still hadn't changed out of his football uniform. He was still wearing the pads, the shoes. Grass and dirt stains were smeared all over his knees as he straightened them. The joints creaked; he'd been stuck in that position for so long without moving. He was stiff all over, and his muscles groaned at being put to use like he'd been sleeping for hours. But he kept going for the exit, his resolve hardening in his chest where his heart once used to be.

He was going to go home, take a shower, throw his uniform into the washing machine. He was going to sleep for 2 hours, and when he woke up he would get ready to go to school. He wasn't going to swing by Bertholdt's house to offer him a ride. He wasn't going to wake up with Bertholdt curled up against him. He wasn't going to talk about Bertholdt, or look for Bertholdt, or even think about Bertholdt.

He didn't deserve to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to Hell, goodbye friends. I am gone.
> 
> (Sorry it's so short! It just HAPPENS I HAVE NO CONTROL OVER WHAT DEMANDS TO BE WRITTEN I SWEAR)


	17. Out Of Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt is suffering from amnesia, and he's confused. What happened in the last two months? Who are these people visiting him and calling themselves his friends? And who is this Reiner person everyone keeps talking about?

  "Wait, so you don't remember any of us?"

Jean, the boy with bicolored hair styled in an undercut and sharp   features, looked floored. He was holding a  _boy's_ hand, something that Bertholdt felt distinctly uncomfortable about, and this boy was even stranger than Jean. Apparently his name was Marco, and he was missing his right eye and arm. He looked all mauled up, and Bertholdt was having a hard time trying not to stare at his disfigurations. It seemed like they were Bertholdt's friends at Trost High, but he still didn't understand  _why_ he'd changed schools and how he could possibly be friends with a  _gay_  couple, of all people.

  "Um, no," Bertholdt said queasily. This Jean person not only looked strange but also very, very scary. He was flanked by a boy named Connie with hair shaved so close to his head he might as well be bald, and a girl called Sasha with brown hair up in a ponytail who wouldn't stop eating the fruits from his gift basket.

  "Do you remember Reiner?" Marco asked, and Bertholdt had to look down into his lap so he didn't have to stare so rudely.

Everyone kept mentioning this Reiner person, even thought Bertholdt had never met him. According to his mom and his 'friends', he and Reiner were  _very_ close. They way they said it made Bertholdt feel uncomfortable, but they wouldn't say anything more when he probed. He wondered if they really were close friends, and if so, why hadn't he come to visit?

  "I've never met him," Bertholdt replied hesitantly. "I mean, a lot of people have told me that we're good friends but I thought he would be one of you."

Jean and Marco exchanged worried looks, and Bertholdt was about to ask them who exactly this Reiner was when the prettiest-looking Oriental girl Bertholdt had ever seen entered his room. She had really Asian-esque features and a petite build, and she was wearing a sports jacket with a logo of a small pair of wings emblazoned over the chest. A whistle was dangling from her neck, and her hair was up in a high bun. Bertholdt instinctively blushed. She was even prettier than Charlene, Bertholdt's girlfriend from Titan Academy.

  "How're you feeling, burrito?" she perched on the edge of his bed, smiling but obviously concerned.

Bertholdt just gaped at her. How did he know such a gorgeous, exotic-looking person?

  "Nene," Jean put a hand on her shoulder, his brows furrowing. "He's not the Bertholdt you know."

  "What are you talking about?" Nene gave a small laugh. "Burrito is burrito."

Jean shook his head and gave her a meaningful look that made her falter. "He doesn't remember any of us, Nene."

  "You mean..." she swallowed thickly, her pretty face going very pale. "He has amnesia?"

Marco nodded in affirmation. "He thinks he's still enrolled in Titan Academy. He doesn't know about...  _that_."

Nene seemed to choke. "What about Reiner?"

 _Who is this Reiner person everyone keeps mentioning?_ Bertholdt thought frustratedly.  _Why does everyone make him sound like he's so special to me? I've never even_ seen  _this guy!_

  "Not even Reiner," Connie said grimly. His jaw had opened with an audible  _pop!_ when Bertholdt failed to recognise them. He'd been unsmiling and silent while Jean and Marco questioned him.

  "Oh, no," Nene whispered. Her eyes had gone wide. "Does... does Reiner know? That Bertholdt is...?"

Jean's expression grew darker. "I tried calling him, but he's not picking up. I swung by his house before coming here, but Mrs. Braun said he didn't want to see anyone. I don't think he knows. If he does, then... well, his reaction is pretty understandable, wouldn't you say?"

Marco squeezed Jean's hand, and they both seemed to be thinking about the same thing. Bertholdt wondered what it was.

  "I'm sorry," Bertholdt was tiring of these strange people that called themselves his friends. "I'm exhausted and I really want to sleep, so could you guys leave me alone, please?"

They nodded and left with quiet goodbyes and murmurs of  'get well soon'. Bertholdt gathered that they were generally nice people, but he couldn't fathom why he'd be hanging out with a gay couple, or a girl who looked so pretty that he was blushing when she brushed against his leg when she sat down on his bed. He wondered why his real friends hadn't come to visit. Surely they must be missing him by now, or have heard of his hospitalisation, right? He reached out for his phone, then belatedly recalled that hospitals forbid the use of phones in case the signal messed with their machines and whatnot. He sighed. Calling Daz and Charlene and his friends would have to wait.

Meanwhile, he really was tired. His head didn't hurt as much, partly because they'd given him painkillers. A doctor came by to check the dressing that was wrapped around most of his head, and declared that he was healing up quite nicely. Then he was wheeled into the MRI room for a scan, which felt a bit odd but was over before long. He was told that he didn't have any anomalies or any internal haemorrhaging anymore, which meant the amnesia could be a permanent result of the injury he'd received. No one gave him the details on how he'd been so badly injured, and it seemed like his mom had told the doctors not to say anything to him. He wondered what his dad was going to say, and cringed when he imagined how angry he would be over having to pay for all the hospital bills.

He must have dozed off, and slept like a rock because when he woke up, it was already 5 in the morning. He blinked groggily, and jerked awake when he noticed someone standing in the doorway of his room. It was too dark to see who, but this person was not that much shorter than him, and he had really short hair. It was definitely a he, because he had a very masculine, muscular build even if you could mistake those huge pectorals for boobs.

  "Who are you?" Bertholdt asked, unnerved by the sight of a stranger he couldn't really distinguish. "What are you doing here? It's after visiting hours--"

The man turned and vanished. Bertholdt wanted to follow, but he was still hooked up to all these machines. "Wait!"

He was wide awake now, and frantic. Had the man done anything strange to him while he was asleep? Injected poison or something into his IV? The possibilities were as endless as they could be a stretch too far of Bertholdt's panicking imagination. He didn't feel odd, and he wasn't injured in any way. So maybe the stranger hadn't done anything except look in on him when he was sleeping. Or maybe he was a doctor on his last rounds, or a visitor who had snuck in to see someone else and mistaken Bertholdt for the person they meant to visit. He couldn't decide on which one seemed more rational and likely, and fell asleep again from thinking too hard.

The second time he woke up, it was nearly 11AM and his mom was there, reading a book with her legs crossed. She was wearing an off-white hoodie, her blonde hair all pulled back in a clip as usual with her fringe still framing her angular face.

  "Mom?" Bertholdt groaned.

She looked up. "Hey. How're you feeling?"

  "Head still hurts, but not that badly now," Bertholdt sat upright with some difficulty. "Can I check out now? I want to call my friends."

She looked hopeful all of a sudden. "You mean you remember?"

  "What?" Bertholdt was confused. "Remember what? I need to call Daz and Charlene and the others. They must be worried sick--"

She slammed the book shut with such force that Bertholdt shut up. There was a thunderous look on her face.

  "Those  _people_ ," her tone made it very clear that she didn't consider them humans at all, and Bertholdt mentally shuddered to think about what they must have done to warrant such ferocity. "are  _not_  your friends, Bertholdt. Don't bother to contact them."

Bertholdt was bewildered. "Mom, why not? They're--"

  "They're little bastards and bitches," Annie snapped. "Don't. Contact. Them." _  
_

He wasn't so confused as much as he was beginning to feel mutinous. " _Why?_ You haven't told me anything since I woke up! I don't know why I'm in the hospital, I don't know why I had to change schools, I don't know why I'm friends with a couple of  _homos!"_

She reared back like he'd sworn at her. "How can you possibly say that?"

  "Because it's true!" Bertholdt struggled not to cry in frustration.

She stood up, and gave him such a look that he cowered. "Don't you  _ever_ call them that. Do you hear me?"

  "Mom, could you at least tell me what happened in the last two months?" he asked desperately.

Annie knew she shouldn't tell him. He'd be in denial. He'd brush it off as some elaborate joke. He'd think she was crazy.

And why wouldn't he?

Bertholdt, in October, had still been as 'normal' as they came. Unassumingly heterosexual, had a stereotypical school life with friends and a girlfriend. He still hadn't figured out that he was gay, and hadn't confessed to Daz. He hadn't seen his world upended, and didn't know he was prescribed with Valium for his panic attacks that were triggered at the mere mention of the word 'homo'. He didn't know his father despised him for his newly-discovered sexuality, or had tried to kill him and put him in the hospital for the second time now.

She exhaled a breath she'd been holding while she thought about all this, and shook her head. "No. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

  "Just tell me! I'll believe you," Bertholdt begged desperately. "Mom, I have a right to know, don't I?"

  "I'm your mother," she said sharply. Perhaps a little  _too_ sharply. "I've raised you since you were born, and I know practically everything there is to know about you. I know how you're going to react, and trust me when I say you won't believe me. So just... just don't ask, Bertholdt. Please."

She had tried to contact Reiner, hoping that seeing the blonde would help her son remember. But Reiner never picked up the phone, and Mrs. Braun had told her in worried aside that he hadn't left his room since the morning Bertholdt woke up. He wasn't going to school, and he wasn't eating. Mr. Braun had tried to knock down the door, but he'd barricaded it. So she left meals outside his door, and he took them and left the empty tray there for her to collect.

  " _I think he's struggling with guilt_ ," Mrs. Braun had said quietly. " _Maybe he's upset that he didn't manage to save Bertholdt in time. I've never seen him so... broken up like this before."_

Annie was angry.  _He_ was struggling? He didn't have to deal with an increasingly frustrated amnesiac and a lawsuit against his ex-husband. He didn't have to take unpaid leave to take care of these affairs, and he didn't have to answer Bertholdt's embittered questions. She wanted to throttle him, but deep down, she did understand. Reiner had always been such a great, shining hope for her son. A hope that Bertholdt could finally be happy, after all that time he spent in misery and pain. He had promised Bertholdt that he would never be that way again... and he'd failed to keep his promise. For someone as noble and as honourable as Reiner, for all his flaws like flamboyance, it had to be a crushing blow. She doubted anyone had told Reiner about Bertholdt's memory loss, and if he  _did_ know...

She could only pray that Reiner would be strong enough to continue to be Bertholdt's hope.

* * *

 

Reiner decided he'd spent enough time steeling himself for what he had to do. It had been a week since the incident had taken place, and he set his alarm to wake up at 7, his usual morning alarm for school. He shaved, showered, brushed his teeth and put on two layers of underwear as he always did when it was less than 30 degrees Farenheit out. His family was startled when he came down for breakfast, and he ate in silence. They didn't ask him anything, or probe or interrogate him, which suited the brawny blonde just fine. He didn't think he could deal with it if they had.

He drove his Jeep to school, but he didn't play any raunchy pop songs like he usually did. People seemed surprised to see him parking his Jeep at school, and he didn't bother to look around for the silver XC60 that belonged to his friend as he headed straight to class. He must have been giving off a 'don't talk to me aura' because nobody approached him or attempted to start a conversation with him. Either that, or he must look terrible.

And he knew, since he'd looked in the mirror that morning after shaving away his week-grown beard, that he  _did_ look like crap. His eyes were bloodshot from too little sleep and too many nightmares, and there were shadows under them. He looked haggard, and he didn't look or feel as sexy as he usually did.

He slouched in his chair, observing people milling about in their morning social activities before homeroom started with detached interest. That girl cut her hair. That dude got a new jacket. It all seemed so... inane. He sighed just as Jean walked into the classroom with an irate expression. People automatically made way for him to pass, and he stopped right in front of Reiner, seething.

  "Why the hell didn't you answer my calls?" Jean demanded.

Reiner stared blankly at him. His phone was dead since that incident, and he'd been charging it without really noticing the ringing and the vibrations it made. "What calls?"

  "Didn't you visit Bert--"

Jean barely managed to step back in evasion as Reiner lurched to his feet and swung his fist so fast it still managed to clip Jean's jaw. His head snapped in the direction of the blow, and he began to swear in French as he rubbed his jaw. Reiner's expression was stony, like he didn't care that he had just attacked his vice-captain and close friend.

  "Shut up," Reiner said flatly. "I don't want to hear anything about that person anymore. Don't ever mention him to me again."

  "You're mad at  _him?"_ Jean was baffled, and Reiner shot him a threatening glare.

  "I'm not mad," Reiner sat back down heavily, and didn't look at Jean. "I just don't want to know." 

 _I don't deserve to,_ he thought as Jean warily sat beside him.  _Do I?_

 


	18. Out of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt is back in school, and he's overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of it all. Who is this Reiner person, exactly? And what is he to Bertholdt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Marco you cutie freckled half of my OTP (I SERIOUSLY DID NOT INTEND TO MAKE A PUN IT JUST HAPPENED)!

Their new house was dark, cold and very bare. All their furniture had not been unpacked yet, even though they'd been living here for nearly a month, according to Annie. Only the most necessary like the tables, chairs and kitchenware had been arranged, but no decorations had been put up. Bertholdt had to wonder why his mother kept all the pictures in a box, leaving the walls naked. Was there some unspeakable memory lurking inside the tape-sealed cardboard box? Would it maybe trigger Bertholdt's lost memories?

He decided not to ask; his mother looked weary, and she wasn't in the mood for any more of his questions. She hadn't answered any of them to begin with, insisting that that he wouldn't believe her. So after much argument, he stopped asking. The ride home was uncomfortably silent, but he was apparently the only one who felt awkward. She steered the  car with her usual expressionless demeanour, indifferent to her son's frustrated bewilderment as she drove them 'home'. But the only home he'd ever known was on Woerman Street, where he'd lived all his life. When he'd asked earlier why they weren't going there, his mother became upset. And that was an understatement for the expression on her face when she replied.

  "We don't live with _your father_ anymore," she said tightly, saying 'your father' like she thought of him as anything but Bertholdt's father. "I divorced him and we moved here."

The news stunned Bertholdt, but not nearly half as much as the fact that they lived right next door to the Brauns, the rowdy family who had visited him when he first woke up. The mother, Mrs. Braun, brought casserole over for their dinner. Tagging along behind her was Tomas, the little boy who soaked Bertholdt's sheets in his tears. But gone was the attachment he had to Bertholdt; now, he hid behind his mother, watching Bertholdt with an owlish expression on his five-year old face. He murmured 'hello' to Berholdt and his mother, but that was all. When they left after Mrs. Braun exchanged short, quiet conversation with Annie, Bertholdt heard him asking his mother as they walked back towards their own house: "Tha's not burrito, is it?"

Mrs. Braun seemingly hesitated before replying. "No, Tomas. That's not Bertholdt."

And it hurt. Bertholdt staggered away from the window, wondering why his chest felt so tight. His heart was being squeezed, and it wasn't a pleasant sensation.  _What? What are they talking about? I"m Bertholdt. What do you mean I'm not?_

Yet Bertholdt was slowly coming to the realisation that not even his own  _mother_ saw him as her son. She looked at him with a sort of pensive anxiety, as though he were a ticking time bomb, ready to explode in her face at any moment. Why? Just because he didn't remember...

 _It must be really important,_ Bertholdt worried the seams of his pillow case.  _Something must have happened in the last two months. Something really, really important. But what? Why won't anyone tell me?_

His room looked perfectly normal, but after a few hours, Bertholdt noticed that something was amiss. The trophies and medals from all his basketball games weren't on his shelf. There were no pictures of him and his friends post-game around, nor could he find the photographs that he'd taken with Charlene at the instant-photograph booth. Even his basketball jerseys and gear couldn't be unearthed from his neat as a pin closet. There was, quite literally, not a trace of his life at Titan Academy. It was eerie, and he wondered what could have possibly happened for him to want to remove all memoirs of his past.

 _Whatever it was_ , Bertholdt flopped back on his bed and gazed aimlessly at the ceiling.  _It must have been bad. Really bad._

Once again, he fell asleep without registering his slip into the arms of Morpheus, because when he woke up, it was just past 6 in the morning. He hadn't eaten dinner, and apparently his mother hadn't thought to wake him up for it. He was wearing yesterday's clothes, and his mouth tasted like how he'd imagine a desert would taste. He felt gross, and he had school in two hours.

 _I don't even know where it is,_ Bertholdt suddenly realised, eyes widening in alarm.  _How am I supposed to get there? What are my classes?_

He hastily took a shower, belatedly recalling that he no longer had a school uniform. He was still figuring out what to wear when he put the pale-blue checkered button down shirt on and layered a thin woollen navy V-neck sweater over it. Then he stared at himself in the mirror with some surprise. He must either really like this outfit, or was really used to wearing this many layers.

There were so many questions he had about himself, so many answers he needed. Like why was he so accustomed to dressing himself like this? Or why did he choose to remove all his memories of Titan Academy? Or why couldn't he find Charlene's or any of his friends' contacts on his cellphone?

And why on  _earth_ had he been prescribed Valium?

He stared at the prescription bottle on his nightstand, and experimentally took out a pill. It was seemingly innocuous, and he thought about swallowing it. After a moment's consideration, he decided against it, and tossed the pill back in so it could rejoin its identical companions. The clock read 7:15AM now, and he still hadn't figured out where his school was. He flipped open his laptop, and opened up GoogleMaps. It was a good half an hour's walk away from his... house, and if he wanted to be on time for homeroom, he had better leave now. The idea that  _this_ was his home now felt very strange. Like a morsel too hard and too big to swallow, stuck in his throat. He shut the laptop, his head starting to throb ever so slightly. Instead of Valium, perhaps he should have been given aspirin instead.

* * *

 

Trost High was much more intimidating than he'd expected a public high school to be. There was even a certain designation for the parking spaces at the front of the school: freshmen parked the furthest, seniors the closest. People milled about their cars, socialising in cliques in the freezing weather, oblivious to the potential contraction of hypothermia. He hurried past them, trying to ignore the way they turned to stare and whisper when he walked by. So what if he'd been hospitalised for a week? Did that really warrant all the furrowed eyebrows and the hushed speculations?

As he neared the school foyer, he heard his name being called out. He turned, and suddenly wished he hadn't stopped. It was Jean and Marco, the gay couple who had visited him in the hospital. He felt uncomfortable around them, for odd reasons that he couldn't really put into words. So he didn't really want to go over and talk to them like they were his friends, and merely waved before fleeing into the crowd of students, completely unaware that at six feet two he was still visible as he towered over the other kids.

Jean and Marco watched him go, the blonde's arm around Marco's shoulders as always but a worried frown making his perpetually narrowed gaze even more menacing. He was hoping that Reiner had gone over to Bertholdt's house (he was not-so-secretly jealous of the fact that they were literally next-door neighbours, while he and Marco lived a fucking  hour's ride by car from each other) and helped to bring the memories back. But as clearly as the bruise on Jean's jaw was, Reiner evidently had not made any move with regards to his... he couldn't call Bertholdt Reiner's ex-boyfriend, since they hadn't actually broken up. If Bertholdt didn't even think he was gay, didn't that kind of put the whole relationship on the rocks? His hand on Marco's shoulder tightened, and the freckled youth looked up at his own boyfriend, equal parts concerned and frustrated.

Marco had become good friends with Bertholdt, and treasured the friendship very much. When Bertholdt had stood up to Greg on his behalf just last week, it had only served the strengthen their platonic relationship. He'd been hoping, like Jean, that Reiner would reconnect with Bertholdt and bring back his new friend. The horror that had seized him upon hearing the news that Djel Fubar had made an attempt on Bertholdt's life had been palpable, but Jean had convinced him that Bertholdt would be okay. Reiner would make sure he was okay... right? Looking at Bertholdt's disappearing back as he unsuccessfully attempted to blend in with the other students, Marco wasn't so sure anymore. It was an odd feeling, to miss someone who was right there. Perhaps this was what they meant when they said 'so close yet so far'. And if Marco felt this bad, then Reiner must be feeling infinitely worse.

Bertholdt, on the other hand, was struggling. He had no idea where he was supposed to be, and had no idea why everyone was giving him looks that varied from concern to smirks. Well, mostly concern. The smirks were all from three juniors leaning against the lockers down the hallway. They had the cocky, arrogant look about them, the kind you'd see in bullies who enjoyed torturing the weak but were innately cowards who would make a hasty escape in the presence of a stronger person. It was really him they were smirking and sneering at, since they kept their eyes on him when he walked past them.

A foot shot out, and he tripped phenomenally: his arms wheeled slightly and barely saved him from landing on his chin. His bag went skidding across the hallway floor, and thumped to a stop against the wall opposite. The palms of his hand stung, and he was reeling in shock. Why...?

  "Hey, fucking queer," the one wearing a baseball cap backwards taunted. He was apparently the lead bully. "No more big, strong football captains to back you up now, huh?"

Bertholdt wrinkled his nose. Back in Titan Academy, people insulted each other with homosexual jibes all the time, but it was good-natured jabs between friends. The way this kid made it sound, it was like he actually believed Bertholdt was gay. And what did he mean, 'big, strong football captains to back you up'? He didn't know any football captains except Ian Dietrich, who led the Titan Academy football team. He waved hi to him in the hallways before, but never interacted with him much more than that. So what on earth was this junior talking about?

  "Thought so," baseball-cap kid curled his lip. "Looks like you're just a weak faggot. Exactly like that freak Bodt--"

Bertholdt didn't know how he'd lurched to his feet so quickly, or why his arm had shot out in a right hook that connected solidly with baseball-cap's jaw. The impact was strong enough that there was a strangely familiar sound of bone against bone. His head was aching again, and his knuckles were bruised and throbbing. He didn't understand why he'd been so quick to react to the mention of Marco's name, or why he'd reacted so violently. He was  _uncomfortable_ around gay couples like Jean and Marco, so wouldn't he be okay with people making fun of them? Or was this a reflex borne out of the last few weeks that he didn't remember? An instinct to protect Marco? His nose wrinkled again.  _Really? Marco? But he's..._

The bell rang, and the people who had been looking in on the minor scuffle quickly dispersed, prioritising class over public entertainment. The bullies shot him dirty, half-frightened looks before scurrying away. Bertholdt watched them go with detached confusion, absently feeling the bruises on his knuckles. The hallway was completely empty now, except for a flash of a shadow moving at the corner of Bertholdt's eye. He spun to look, feeling that same feeling he'd gotten the night at the hospital, when he woke up to see someone standing in his doorway. The hair on the back of his neck stood, and he had the insane urge to chase after the person.

It was utterly silent in the hallway, and Bertholdt hurried in the direction that the shadow had moved. Turning the corner, he was disappointed and vexed to see it was empty as well.

 _Argh,_ Bertholdt smacked his forehead and winced.  _I still don't know where my homeroom is._

 


	19. Within Peripheral Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is Reiner?

By the time Bertholdt realised he should have just gone to the general office for a copy of his timetable and locker number, it was almost lunch. The woman manning the desk gave him a sympathetic tut, and handed over the freshly-printed pages that were still warm to the touch.

  "I trust you can find your way to the cafeteria?" she asked with a wry smile.

  "Yes, ma'am," Bertholdt ducked his head meekly and scuttled out, papers flapping.

He didn't, but he just followed everyone else. It was practically mass herding, with all students practically tumbling over each other to get into the communal dining facility as if it were a race for survival. People jostled for a good place in line, and Bertholdt towered over all of them. Some people slanted him looks he couldn't really describe with his vocabulary, and they varied from derogatory to commiserative. It made him uncomfortable, and he wished he could shrink into the soles of his shoes, toes of which he scuffed against the linoleum tiles of the cafeteria floor. The line shuffled forward, and Bertholdt grabbed a tray, loading it up with the most pathetic slice of pizza and portion of salad he had ever seen. It barely passed for presentable, a triangular piece of baked dough with a stingy layer of half-melted cheese and a spurt of tomato sauce, six lettuce leaves with a shrunken cherry tomato.

 _Where do I sit?_ Bertholdt's gaze scanned the cafeteria, and he grew increasingly uncomfortable as he stood there like an awkward telephone pole in the middle of freaking nowhere, holding his lunch tray.

  "Bertholdt!" An all-too familiar arm waved over the heads of munching students, and Bertholdt's heart sank.

It was Marco, with Jean sitting beside him. The red-knit beanie-toting male had his arm placed possessively around his scarred and disfigured boyfriend's waist, and was aiming a very wary look Bertholdt's way. He gulped nervously; Jean was, in Bertholdt's honest opinion, terrifying with his slight cadaverousness and sharp, pale ochre eyes.

The table at which they sat was actually _two_ table pushed up to form a bigger feasting area for their clique: Connie and Sasha, the pair Bertholdt had met before and genuinely liked because they didn't make him half as uncomfortable as Jean and Marco; a mean-looking, freckled girl with  her arm slung over a tiny and sweet blond girl's narrow shoulders; a scowling, teal/green-eyed boy sitting awfully close to a blond boy who looked like the male twin of the aforementioned blond girl.

 _Oh, great,_ Bertholdt suppressed the urge to moan.  _More than half of their clique is gay. Am I really friends with them?_

There was a powerfully-built boy sitting with his back towards Bertholdt, his pale blonde hair cropped short and whose broad shoulders had stiffened when Marco had hailed him. Bertholdt's curiosity was piqued; he appeared to be the only one without a... um, partner. His stature would surely be popular amongst the girls, and even Bertholdt had to appreciate his incredible physique from the standpoint of a fellow athlete. Bertholdt was 'ripped', according to his friends back at Titan Academy, but he had never been able to achieve the masculine kind of bulk he'd always wanted, the kind he saw in this brawny blonde.

As Bertholdt approached, something about the way this guy's back muscles moved under the material of his fitted shirt stirred an odd feeling in the recesses of Bertholdt's mind and in his abdomen. It felt like the ghosts of a past life haunting his senses: warm, hard but soft, smooth skin yet rough edges... like a lover of a life he had forgotten.

 _WHAT,_ Bertholdt staggered and pulled up short a mere couple of yards away from the table, away from the boy whose back awakened the phantoms. _I'm NOT gay. This is... this is just... he remind me of Charlene, that's all!_

Charlene was petite, brunette and as girly as they came. She could talk someone's ear off just discussing which shade of nail polish she should buy so that it would flatter her colouring. Bertholdt blanched as he thought about how different they were.

 _Maybe it's because they're so opposite,_ Bertholdt desperately reasoned with himself.  _That's why he reminds me of Charlene!_

 "C'mon! Sit with us!" Marco beckoned Bertholdt, making the taller boy feel immensely guilty with his unrelenting friendliness and affability.

Some years ago, when Bertholdt had been much younger and more impressionable, he'd been out on a trip to the mall with his parents. There was a gay couple holding hands with their heads high, walking through the crowd 'like they had the right to be among respectable people like us'. Djel Fubar's sneered remark had been cutting and made Bertholdt cringe for reasons he couldn't quite place. The remark had stayed with him, all throughout his adolescence and his teenage years. The community in which he lived--no,  _had_ lived, was a very orthodox community. There were quite a few Bible-thumpers, who went around saying what was good and what was damnable. Bertholdt's mother never paid them any attention, not because she couldn't be bothered, but Bertholdt now realised it was because she didn't agree with them. If you challenged their opinions, you were outcast. Bertholdt's father, however, was not a Bible-thumper but he did agree that whatever he didn't like (which was almost everything the Bible-thumpers looked down upon), was worthy of damnation. Perhaps that was what made Bertholdt so uncomfortable now, as he looked at the table full of gay couples and judged them with Djel Fubar's attitude.

Bertholdt's feet carried him towards the table, and he internally struggled against the innate desire to sit at the table.

The very moment Bertholdt slid into the seat beside the strapping blonde, the familiar-yet-not boy pushed away from the table and stalked off. The racket in the cafeteria died, and it was as eerily silent as you'd expect to find in a graveyard. Heads swivelled, and glances darted between the direction that the strange guy had left, and Bertholdt's crimson face. Whispers started up, speculating and gossiping.

 _What?_ Bertholdt thought faintly.  _Why did he... what just... does he hate me?_

The thought made him sick to the stomach, and he wanted to barf up the nonexistent contents of his growling stomach. He'd missed dinner last night, skipped breakfast in favour of finding his own way to school and spent most of the morning wandering around the school like a lost child. He was nauseous, and at the edges of his consciousness lurked the more hostile ghouls of anxiety. They jabbed at his mind with their sharp, phantasmic fingers, and he began to understand why he'd been prescribed Valium.

It was to ward off these spectres, and he heard rather than felt his breathing grow short and uneven.

_Reiner._

Who?

_You're okay._

Who's okay?

_I promise._

What promise?

Bertholdt gasped like a fish out of water as the panic seized him entirely, and the last thing he remembered was falling, before the darkness dragged him under.

* * *

 

Reiner played truant for the second time that semester.

It was much harder than he'd originally expected, avoiding the boy he loved to pay for his penance of failing to protect him. Who was he kidding? He couldn't stay away. Sneaking into the hospital in the dead of the night (or before civilised people were awake), peeping around corners of the hallways, and never having the courage or the fortitude to apologise properly.

 _"Bertholdt doesn't fucking remember you,"_ Jean had rasped, pinned to the wall of the school carpark that morning by Reiner's fist. Marco was tugging at the brawnier blonde's arm, trying to make him let go of his boyfriend. " _He doesn't remember any of us. You want be a fucking miserable, self-pitying_ fils de pute _, you're welcome to. But spare a thought for how the rest of us are feeling about the same fucking situation."_

Reiner choked, bending over on the cold sidewalk and propping his hands on his knees. It physically hurt to breathe, and it was agonising to picture Bertholdt in his mind's eye, but it was all he could see.

Bertholdt blushing like the sweetheart that he was, fluttering eyelids and hesitant gaze meeting Reiner's adoring one.

Bertholdt smiling that breathtaking smile of his, so much like a young bird taking its first cautious flight for freedom.

Bertholdt laughing on the rarest of occasions, the curve of his lips and the novelty of mirth after months of misery shining in his beautiful green eyes.

Bertholdt crying, clutching at the front of Reiner's shirt for solace and reassurance as he begged for the blonde not to leave him, not even for a few minutes.

 _I broke my promise_ , Reiner collapsed against the side of his Jeep, sliding down into a sitting position on the frozen asphalt of the school parking lot. He wasn't wearing two layers of underwear, even though it was 27 degrees Farenheit out, so the cold seeped through the fabric at the seat of his jeans and bit at his ass.

_He's not okay._

Bertholdt slumped against the wall of the football stadium, blood snaking down the back of his slender neck, eyes shut and tears streaking his unconscious features.

The image was burned into Reiner's brain, irremovable, permanent and indelible. A scar, a lesion that would never heal.

Reiner pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and began to sob in self-loathing.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the parking lot, crying in the wintry January afternoon like an idiot. His nose was nipped pink and runny with snot, and he didn't need a mirror to see that his eyes were red. He would have sat there until school was out and people started to populate the parking lot, if not for the vibrations of his phone in his pocket that demanded his attention.

  "Hello?" his voice came out like a bullfrog's croak.

  "Dude," it was Jean, and Reiner sighed in annoyance. "Where the hell are you?"

  "Outside the school," Reiner grumbled, wishing he could be left alone. There was no fucking such thing as manly tears. Everyone, guys, girls or take your pick, needed a good crying jag every now and then. "What do you want?"

  "Bertholdt had a panic attack," Jean informed him tersely. "He blacked out in the cafeteria."

And Reiner was up and running, his resolve to stay away completely forgotten.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! I know it's all kind of rushed and not very well-paced and some of it seems forced but I'm just... ugh. I'm sorry.
> 
> (going on hiatus for reasons)


	20. At The Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt doesn't know who Reiner is, but why does it feel like he does? And should?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOMOPHOBIC SLURS WARNING

Reiner's feet instinctively knew where to go, even if his mind was still reeling.

The infirmary was not a foreign place to him; it might as well be an elective classroom, one he visited three or four times a week thanks to the aggressive and confrontational nature of the sport he played. As a result, he knew how to tape up sprained ankles, pop back dislocated joints, treat cuts that wouldn't stop bleeding. He could help everyone with their problems, be it a rough day or a rough relationship by lending an ear and making some sympathetic noises. It seemed like he could come to the aid of anyone.

Anyone except Bertholdt, apparently. But how do you help someone who doesn't even know who you are?

He shoved aside students who got in his way, or mowed them down completely if they didn't get the memo of his hell-bent expression. Some cleverly leapt out of the way, but several still got pushed onto their ass when they didn't see him coming fast enough. By the time he reached the infirmary, people were already postulating on what was up with the admirable football captain, and more than a handful were cursing at him for bruising their tailbones. Heedless of their theorisations and the indignation, he placed on palm flat on the cool metal of the infirmary door. He could hear the murmurs of activity behind it, and his heart faltered.

_Does he even need me?_

It was out of character for him to be so... irresolute. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he pushed the door open. All his friends were there, crowded around an infirmary bed and the attending school nurse trying to get around them. Jean and Marco noticed Reiner's entry first, being the most attuned to his presence as his oldest and closest friends. As the more dominant and assertive of the two, Jean was naturally indifferent to most things that didn't directly involve Marco. Yet his current expression was a startling mirror of Marco's distressed one. It unnerved Reiner, seeing his more impassive friend look so concerned. And one by one, all his friends noticed him and wordlessly opened up a path between him and the infirmary bed.

Bertholdt looked paler than the bleached sheets he'd been laid on, and his breathing was shallow. His eyelids flickered and he moaned every now and then, as if he were suffering in a nightmare that paralysed him. Reiner yearned to have him safely ensconced in his arms, looking up at the brawny blonde like he was Bertholdt's beloved knight in shining armour... but obviously that wasn't a very feasible desire at the present moment.

  "He passed out in the cafeteria," Jean told Reiner quietly as the others watched the exchange with troubled expressions. "The panic attack began a couple of seconds after you bailed, and I think he was worried that you hated him. Maybe seeing you was a trigger?"

Reiner didn't hold out much hope for that. He didn't deserve to hope, period. "Is he okay now?"

Jean looked irate at Reiner's impassive reaction, and gestured at the unconscious giant whose feet actually stuck out over the end of the bed. It would have been hilarious if not for the gravity of the situation. "Does he  _look_ okay?"

No. No, he didn't. He wasn't okay, and Reiner felt whatever fragments of his heart disintegrate with the excruciating understanding that he'd broken his promise  _again._ What was his value as a boyfriend, a friend, a fucking human being, if he couldn't keep _one_  fucking promise?

His feet took over once more, carrying Reiner towards the bed. Bertholdt flinched, as if he could sense Reiner approaching. That made the blonde pause, wavering and reconsidering his right to be near Bertholdt at all.

 _Stop,_ Reiner squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly.  _You already decided. You_ know  _you should have stayed by him, no matter what the situation or circumstance. Staying away has always, always done more harm than good to Bertholdt. I'm running away by staying away, and that's not punishment at all. That's... that's just despicable._

He crouched by Bertholdt's prone form, and tentatively took the taller boy's hand in his own. The palm was slick with sweat, and the fingers were long, the nails neatly trimmed. He caressed it gently as he had on their date a little over a week ago, but that now felt like another life. A fleeting dream of contentment and happiness, as beautiful as it was ephemeral. Reiner wanted to cry, wanted to stroke Bertholdt's face, to help him somehow. He wanted to trace the contours of Bertholdt's lips with his own, and feel the heat linger on them for hours afterwards.

Oblivious to the onlookers, Reiner pressed his lips to Bertholdt's clammy palm, and began to murmur the words he should have said a long, long time ago.

* * *

 

Bertholdt was falling.

His stomach was in hat queasy, barf-inducing state of suspension, and he screamed on its behalf. It was a cry of desperate horror, a cry for release and a stop to this endless plunge into the darkness.

 _What?_ Bertholdt cried.  _What do you want from me?_

There was no answer. Not that he was expecting some Morgan Freeman voice to come booming out of the pitch blackness to shed some light on the query.

 _What did I forget?_   _Who?_

_Who's Reiner? What was he to me?_

_Who am I?_

He felt something, a warmth at the extremities of his left hand. He was cold, frightened and lost from falling, always falling in this darkness. So he focussed on the warmth, and clung to it as tightly as he could. 

 _Save me,_ Bertholdt pleaded silently.  _Help me._

The warmth tickled his palm, and it was soft, and very human. Someone was whispering something, and he strained to hear it.

...  _sorry. I'm so sorry._

_I broke my promise, and I'm so sorry, Bertholdt. I knew I said we'd be okay, that everything was going to be okay. It's not. You're not, because I didn't protect you._

_I should have stayed with you. I should have tried harder, instead of running away._

The masculine bass of the voice whispering into his left palm startled Bertholdt. Why was a guy talking to him like that? As if he were someone special, someone important to Bertholdt? Or as if... Bertholdt was important to him?

 _Please come back to me. I swear, I_ swear _, I won't let_ anything  _try to hurt you again. And even if you_ do  _get hurt... I'll beat up the sonofabitch, and I'll make it up to you somehow. I'll be whatever you want me to be. I'll do whatever you ask. Just please...please come back to me._

The sickening sensation of falling stopped, and Bertholdt gradually became aware of a bed under him. Everything was still dark, but only because his eyes were closed. So he opened them.

Crouched beside him, holding his left hand and pressing his lips against the palm of it, was the boy who'd walked away from him in the cafeteria. There was no doubt about it: the broad shoulders, the arms and upper torso roped with thick cords of muscle, the close-cropped blond hair. His eyes were closed, and his hands were big yet surprisingly gentle, holding Bertholdt's hand like it was made of glass or fine china.

Then he opened his eyes, as if by some sixth sense he was conscious of Bertholdt doing the same. His eyes were a bright, burnished gold.

  "Reiner," the name escaped Bertholdt's lips in a sigh before he could process what was going on and why on earth a  _guy_ was holding his hand.

He was dumbfounded by the surge of emotions that just overwhelmed every nerve in his body, and most importantly, converged in his heart. It began to pound, not with panic like in the cafeteria earlier, but with... relief. Happiness. Reassurance.

The guy-- Reiner, it seemed, looked like he was going to cry. And Bertholdt instinctively removed his left hand from his grip to place his palm against this Reiner's cheek. It was an act of tenderness... of love.

 _I'm not gay!_ insisted a tinny voice in Bertholdt's flummoxed mind. It was like his body had a mind of his own. Muscle memory. But what could possibly have happened in the last two months that would make  _this_ muscle memory? It was ridiculous!... and it felt so right.

  "Bertholdt," Reiner choked, and closed his luminescent gold eyes to nuzzle against Bertholdt's palm. He clasped it tighter to his cheek with his own hand, and began to cry softly. "I'm sorry."

_I'm sorry._

Bertholdt felt a prickle at the nape of his neck, like someone had jabbed at the sensitive skin there with the point of an icicle. The sensation that followed was equally unpleasant: cold water flooding his mind and running down his spine as he shuddered at the tidal wave of memories, blinding him to the present.

_I'm sorry, Dad! I'm sorry! Please--_

_Fucking fag!_

_Queer!_

_Homo whore!_

_Get lost!_

He whimpered at the influx of memories, the crippling pain that each one brought him.

_The unending hailstorm of blows and punches and kicks, the agonising crack of the belt against his skin, the breaking of his bones at his father's resentful wrath. The apologies that wouldn't stop coming out of his mouth, long after he'd been taken away into the sanctuary of a hospital's ER. The panic attacks, triggered by the slightest homophobic slur. The Valium that was prescribed to keep it at bay._

_The kisses that replaced the Valium. Warm embraces that muted the pain, subdued the anxiety. Reminded him that yes, he was loved._

_Reiner._

_Strong, handsome Reiner, who loved him and it showed in his eyes when he looked at Bertholdt._

_The promise._

_And then his father again, aiming for his life with a brick, slamming him against the wall without stopping, the smell of alcohol, the meaty hands around his neck._

_Broken._

And Bertholdt screamed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like crying. Okay correction: I AM CRYING.


	21. Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt is beginning to remember, and it's not exactly giving him the warm fuzzies. Nene decides to intervene.

  "Bertholdt!  _Bertholdt! Focus on me!"_

Reiner grabbed the howling boy's shoulders, and edged towards panic himself. Bertholdt had clapped his hands over his ears, eyes squeezed shut and tears running down his cheeks, screaming uncontrollably. His agonised shrieking grated at Reiner's fraying nerves, and no matter how much he tried to pitch his own voice over Bertholdt's, it wasn't working. The darker-haired boy continued to wail like a possessed, terrified soul, and didn't feel or hear Reiner's attempts to succour him.

He was being tormented by something unseen, and as much as Reiner desperately wanted to protect Bertholdt from it, how do you protect someone from something that isn't tangible?

  " _Kiss him, you big doofus!"_

Nene had arrived at the scene of carnage, having caught wind of the situation. She looked like Hell on wheels, if Hell wore a white varsity football jacket and had the face of a gorgeous Japanese _fujoshi._ She waved her hands like a madwoman, and everyone looked at her like she was just that. 

Reiner glanced back at Bertholdt, still trembling and shouting at an invisible monster to stop, please stop. A week ago, he wouldn't have hesitated. He wouldn't have given it a second thought, just smothered the boy with kisses and cuddling and reassuring murmurs until he quietened down. But this was now, and he had no idea what Bertholdt was fending off. Did this qualify as a panic attack? Did he even deserve--

  " _JUST KISS HIM ALREADY_!" Nene smacked the back of Reiner's head, propelling him forward with the force of her blow and practically colliding against Bertholdt's nose with his own.

They were mere millimetres apart now. Reiner didn't give it a second thought this time: he silenced Bertholdt by unceremoniously sticking his tongue down the frenzied boy's throat.

Practically choked into taciturnity, Bertholdt's inundation of broken glass memories drew to a blessed halt as he felt the tingling mellowness of a pair of very familiar lips on his own, and the lust-inducing sensation of a warm tongue sliding down towards the back of his throat. Bertholdt was frightened by the possibility of being torturously regaled by bitterly painful memories once more, so he threw his arms around the neck of the person kissing him, and demanded more by angling his head.

He registered a start of surprise, then the person obliged. The more Bertholdt hugged, the more he remembered. But these weren't traumatic or harrowing memories. These settled in the bottom of his stomach and filled it with a sweet delight up to his heart.

_Reiner's hands rubbing slow circles on Bertholdt's back, his hand warm and big and calloused. The bullied teen had never felt so wanted, so loved and so secure in the arms of someone before, and it was a rapturous experience. He didn't want Reiner to let go._

_Reiner kissing him, not just for every time he panicked, but just because he was so 'kissable', and because when he blushed like_ that _, it was like he was_ demanding _to be kissed._

_Reiner spooning him in his bed, arms wrapped around Bertholdt's waist and mouth pressed to the back of his neck. They would fall asleep like that, and Bertholdt would take a little longer to doze off than Reiner, his semi-erection throbbing in the confines of his boxer shorts._

_Reiner promising him that it was all going to be okay._

_Reiner._

Bertholdt's eyes flew open, and he pulled away from the blonde. His chest rose and fell in breathless pants, and he didn't need a mirror to know his face was scarlet. It felt hot enough to cook an egg, and he was sweating through the cotton fabric of his shirt such that it literally clung to his skin under his sweater. That was uncomfortable, yes, but worse still was the bulge at the crotch of his pants and the fact that it wasn't obscured in the least. Everyone could see it, but thankfully their eyes were on his vermillion face instead.

Reiner, on the other hand, flicked an interested glance at his erection. Then his preternatural, stunning gold eyes were on Bertholdt's face again, and the muscle in his jaw twitched as he gauged the reason for Bertholdt's embarrassment.

This might not be the Bertholdt he knew. This could be the Bertholdt from before the last two months. Bertholdt before he questioned his sexuality, before he was tormented by his peers and father for it, before he knew or even needed Reiner. This could be a total stranger--

Bertholdt seized his face with both hands and kissed him again.

  "Wa-wait," Reiner managed to say between the hot, passionate kisses that Bertholdt was planting on him. "Bertholdt, give me a sec here--"

He pulled Bertholdt into his arms such that his adorably blushing face was hidden in his shoulder, and half-turned towards his friends, making obvious gestures for them to get out and give them some privacy. They made understanding, wicked expressions before trooping out... all except Nene, who had been watching the sight with an unholy gleam in her eyes and her hands steepled together as if she were praying.

  "Nene," he hissed.

  "Aw, come on," Nene half-whispered, pleading. "I don't get--"

  " _Nene."_

She grumbled her discontent, then stomped out. Reiner rolled his eyes and climbed onto the bed with Bertholdt still in his arms. It was a feeling he'd missed, this gentle, sweet giant cradled in his embrace. He had no idea just _how much_ he'd missed it.

  "Bertholdt," Reiner murmured into his fine, dark hair and rubbed his upper arms in a slow, even rhythm. "Are you okay?"

The taller boy whimpered incoherently into his shoulder, his shoulders trembling and his face hot. Reiner stroked his hair, burying his own face in Bertholdt's crown and relishing the wonderfully familiar scent of his shampoo and sweat. It was like coming home in the dead of winter to a blazing hearth and a naked lover on the couch, both ready to warm you right up. Speaking of which...

Reiner glanced at Bertholdt's erection again, and with a shit-eating grin that felt like a long-lost friend stretching his face, he surmised the reason for Bertholdt's incoherent whimpering.

His hand slid down from Bertholdt's scalp to slide over his chest, his washboard abs and rest on his crotch. Bertholdt whined and bucked up against his hand like a rutting animal in heat, and despite the fact that Bertholdt had just suffered a panic attack, blacked out in the school cafeteria, suffered what appeared to be a particularly painful mental breakdown (?) and that they were in the school infirmary... Reiner badly wanted to fuck Bertholdt right here, right now, regardless of the possibility that Bertholdt was still an amnesiac and didn't even recall what Reiner was to him.

With agonisingly noble self-control, he removed his hand from Bertholdt's crotch (eliciting a desperate whine from the taller boy) and used it to lift his chin instead. He wasn't entirely sure of what he was expecting to see, but he did hold out the tiniest of hopes..

 _Please, please_ , Reiner silently prayed to whatever higher power that watched over amnesiac boyfriends.  _Please come back to me. I need you._   _Please, Berholdt... bingo._

Bertholdt's emerald-hued eyes were wet with tears, the long lashes spiked with them. His cheeks were still aflame, and his nose was pink from sniffling. His lips were temptingly soft and slick with saliva, and there was a tiny white scar on the bottom of his chin from a fall when he was eight and an intrepid tree-climber. The sight sobered him up, and reawakened his protective instinct. But most importantly, it was there.

The recognition, the need. Bertholdt  _did_ remember. He _knew_ who Reiner was.

And Reiner, for the third time that day, wanted to cry. Except this time, it was to cry tears of joy.

* * *

Bertholdt remembered. He remembered everything -- the awful agony as he discovered his more-than-platonic feelings for Daz, his clumsy adaptation to his newly-realized sexual orientation, his hopeful confession and the disintegration of his seemingly perfect life. 

His father's brutal rage, his so-called friends turning on him mercilessly, the fear of his own sexuality.

And the warm lips that assured him of the lack of necessity behind that fear.

  "Reiner," Bertholdt clung to him like they'd been apart for years. They might as well have been, for all that had happened. "Reiner."

The blonde held him close, thank God, and hadn't let go. Instead, he'd picked him up bridal style, ignoring Bertholdt's embarrassed protests and carrying him into his Jeep where they now lay across the backseat. The heater was on, but to be perfectly honest... it wasn't necessary.

  "I feel like you're going to disappear again," Reiner choked, pressing kisses down the throat of the taller boy, unwittingly sparking a trail of sparks that set him on fire with need. "Even though you're right here in my arms... stay with me, burrito, okay?"

  "Not going anywhere," Bertholdt kissed his forehead, body shivering with anticipation. "Just don't let me go."

  "I won't," Reiner swore, and dived headfirst into the wanton pleasures of the flesh, taking an all-too willing Bertholdt with him.

Clothes were peeled off perspiration-slick skin, and they yearned to feel everything. Breathless moans escaped their throats as they touched each other in erogenous zones. The windows fogged up, and they couldn't have cared less if the whole world had been watching through them. This was now. This was their present. And Reiner was going to put his foot so far up the ass of anyone who tried to breach it that it would have come out through their mouth.

Afterwards, as Bertholdt lay dozing off in his arms, stark naked, sweaty and contentedly drifting in the blissful post-coital haze, Reiner planned the hit list.

And first at the top of them all, was Daz.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I am riddled with self-doubts because I really wanted them to just get back together already and amnesiac Bertl was pissing me off so yes, if it seems rushed... I am a very short-tempered, impatient person. And I have a mighty need for happy couples.


	22. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt is welcomed home, and Reiner wants a little more than just sex.

The thing was, Bertholdt didn't remember much about the last week. He knew there was a gap in his memory, but the last real thing he could recall before that gap was Djel Fubar trying to kill him that night of the game. He remembered faintly calling for Reiner, but then after that... nothing. Next thing he knew, he was lying in the infirmary, frightened and convinced that Djel Fubar was still there, violently attempting to carry out his revenge on him. He couldn't shake the feeling that his father was still lurking around the corner, murder in his eyes, even after Reiner had informed him that Djel Fubar was in police custody and awaiting trial. He could still feel his father's mad intent in his beefy hands around Bertholdt's neck, slamming him against the wall of the stadium repeatedly, mercilessly. 

The only thing that dispelled the unease and chilling fear was Reiner's arms around him, the heat and feel of his sinewy body enveloping Bertholdt's giant frame. It had taken the blonde a full ten minutes to convince the taller boy to put his clothes back on, so that Reiner could drive them home. Even during the journey, Bertholdt couldn't keep his hands off his boyfriend-- _boyfriend,_ Bertholdt got a small thrill out of it every time he remembered that yes, this gorgeous blonde really  _did_ love him-- and wouldn't stop touching his knuckles as he gripped the stick shift, tracing his jaw and cheekbone, running his fingers over the curve of his bicep. Reiner didn't mind, of course, despite his chuckled protest that it was distracting him from driving safely.

  "Babe," Reiner laughed when he finally pulled over in front of his house and Bertholdt had already half-climbed over the console between them to kiss him. "Not that I'm any less eager to go another round, but seriously. At least keep it in your pants till the parental units are done smothering you, okay?"

Bertholdt pouted, but consented once Reiner leaned over and kissed his brow, promising _a lot more_ later. They got out of the car and walked up the driveway with Reiner's hand firmly clasped around Bertholdt's. Before they could even reach the front door, it burst open and Tomas spilled out of it with Berwick hot on his heels.

  "Burrito!" the youngest of the Braun brood launched himself at Bertholdt, once again failing to recall his oldest brother's lecture on running headfirst at people's pelvic area. Fortunately, muscle memory kicked in and Bertholdt let go of Reiner's hand so he could pick the five-year old up and swing him over his head.

  "Is he back?" Berwick tugged at the hem of Reiner's shirt, eyes comically wide. "Is it Burrito?"

Reiner chuckled, and ruffled his younger brother's hair. "Yeah, it's Burrito."

  "Go, go!" Tomas had been settled on Bertholdt's shoulders, and was excitedly spurring him onwards into the Braun house. Bertholdt obliged with a faint smile, used to the whims of the youngest Braun.

  "Watch his--! ...head," Reiner winced as Bertholdt forgot how tall he was, and accidentally made Tomas rap his forehead against the doorframe. But the five-year old was adamantly delighted about having his friend (or steed, more likely) back and refused to let his jocular mood be dampened by the swelling knot on his forehead.

As expected, Reiner's parents were practically close to tears with joy as they literally smothered Bertholdt in hugs upon the revelation that he had recovered from his amnesia. Mrs. Braun forced him to sit down and eat, insisting he was skinnier than ever, while Mr. Braun challenged him to a Mario Kart race with the two youngest Brauns chirping their demands to participate. Reiner fended them off with the not-so-subtle proclamation that they need some time alone, but not before making a call in private to Annie, telling her that he had good news. He could hear her gasp in disbelief, not willing to hope for such clemency after all that had happened. He assured her that yes, Bertholdt was perfectly fine, that he remembered, and this was really their Bertholdt. 

She showed up at the door not twenty minutes later, looking like she'd just broken half of all the traffic regulations in existence and couldn't care less. Then she took Bertholdt in her arms, and stroked the back of his head, not quite crying but almost there. She murmured his name over and over again, eyes squeezed shut and the wrinkles that creased her stately beauty blurred by her joy. Bertholdt let her have her moment, hugging her back and half-laughing when she smacked his shoulder for ageing her ten years with his amnesia. He couldn't begrudge the Brauns and his mother their concern and overjoyed relief, because judging from how Reiner had reacted when he first came around out of unconsciousness... it hadn't been a very fun ride during this last week that he had no recollection of. Reiner's hesitation, his apprehension and doubt had been vividly clear on his face when he lifted Bertholdt's chin to see if it was really him. It made him wonder what kind of monster he'd been during the last seven days. What horrible things he must have done or said, to make everyone _this_ relieved.

The Brauns and Annie continued to celebrate, and Bertholdt looked around for Reiner, anxious when he was all-too aware of the fact that his blond boyfriend wasn't nearby. Then he found him in the kitchen, quietly discussing something on the phone. He caught Bertholdt's gaze, winked and went back to his conversation. Unable to ignore the frisson of anxiety that materialised in his gut whenever Reiner wasn't with him, he excused himself from the roistering and trotted into the kitchen so he could slip his arms around Reiner's waist from behind.

  "...hold on, I'll talk to you more about this later," Reiner smiled, feeling Bertholdt bury his face in the curve where Reiner's neck met his shoulder. "Yeah. Mm. Tell Marco I said hi, and don't bang him too hard. Uh-huh. Bye."

  "Jean?" Bertholdt easily made the connection when Marco's name was mentioned.

  "Yeah," Reiner reached behind him to pat Bertholdt's head. "He wanted to know if you were okay."

  "Did I..." Bertholdt swallowed his hesitation, expression tight with misgiving. "Did I do anything...you know, bad?"

  "Define bad," Reiner kissed Bertholdt's temple. "You were pretty naughty in the backseat just an hour ago. Does that count?"

Bertholdt turned a fiery red, and that warranted another kiss from Reiner. "I didn't--! I mean, did I say or do anything hurtful? When I... wasn't me?"

  "It was you," Reiner's hand moved to caress his boyfriend's cheek now, and he no longer took for granted the easy physical affection between them. "It was just the you from two months ago. Before... before you transferred to Trost High."

  "Oh," Bertholdt whispered, blanching in shame. He knew what he'd been like before then. Before he realised his sexual orientation, and made heads or tails of his own feelings for Daz. "I  _did_ do something bad, didn't I?"

  "Nothing Jean or Marco took offence against," Reiner shrugged, turning around completely to embrace Bertholdt. He gently tapped his forehead against the taller boy's, even if he did have to angle his head upwards to do so. "Jean was more concerned than mad, so you don't have to worry about anything. And Marco's the type to forgive and forget, bless his freckled soul."

Bertholdt couldn't chase away the feeling that he  _had_ done something bad. "But..."

  "No buts," Reiner pecked him on the lips. "But if you insist on having done something bad... why don't I punish you?"

The obvious innuendo and the wicked glint in his gold eyes did not go unnoticed by Bertholdt, who blushed once more. That made Reiner smooch him on both cheeks, and declared that they weren't going to his room after all. Bertholdt's face fell slightly, and the blonde only smirked as he took Bertholdt by his hand to lead him out the front door,  hollering over the din that they were going to Bertholdt's house next door. Blithely unaware of their intentions, Reiner's parents only booed to have the life of the party taken away, while Annie merely rolled her eyes and pointedly remarked that she was Bertholdt's  _mother._

His heart rate picked up and blood rushed to Bertholdt's face even more as Reiner whispered that they were going to need some privacy, particularly since he wasn't going to just stop at letting the taller boy whimper. The blonde wanted to hear his boyfriend  _scream_ when he climaxed, and figured that having the parental units only a couple of feet away below them was not going to be the most conducive environment. What Reiner _didn't_ tell Bertholdt, was that he needed to dig a little into his past, just to check out a couple of details. It was likely going to frighten Bertholdt, and possibly induce another panic attack. But this time Reiner was going to be there. And this time, he wasn't going to let Bertholdt stave off his fears alone.

Instead, he was going to crush them like a cockroach.

* * *

 

Bertholdt didn't like this idea at all. That was putting it simply.

He had, of course, panicked considerably when Reiner not-too-casually (the man couldn't be subtle even if he was arranging someone's funeral, which was his absolute intention) mentioned Daz. The blonde had to tighten his grip around the taller, agitated boy and mollify his fearful reactions by kissing him into submission (that involved a lot of Frenching, if you really must know). A dazed, hot and sweaty mess of a burrito was much more compliant and willing to give Reiner the information he needed, even if he did stammer and choke on his consternation more than a handful of times. When Reiner was satisfied with his newfound 'stalker-worthy' Rolodex of data on Daz Venable, he lulled his bewildered and somewhat petrified boyfriend to sleep by wringing every last orgasm he could out of the taller boy.

Then he called Jean.

  "What?" Jean was irritable, out of breath and there was muffled whimpers of protest in the background. Reiner cleverly deduced that once again, they were having sex at Jean's house.

  "Who's watching Kie?" Reiner asked conversationally, running his hand over the smooth curve of Bertholdt's shoulder, who was curled up against the blonde and snoring softly. The corners of his eyes were slightly puffy and pink, a result of tears borne of an orgasm nearly overlapping another orgasm before it finished out. Reiner had always known his Little Man was mighty, but seeing this fragile boy nearly break with the force of too much sexual pleasure was downright gratifying..

  "Ugh," he could almost imagine Jean running an annoyed hand over his face and then shoving it through his hair. "Nene's watching him, duh."

  "Right," Reiner decided to move on to the main point before the strangled mewls in Jean's room got any louder or clearer, particularly when Jean held the phone away and could be heard saying 'shh, don't you dare come without me'. "I dug up the dirt on Daz."

Jean immediately paid attention, and Reiner was once again grateful for his closest friend and vice-captain's awareness high self-monitoring personality trait (particularly when Eren was almost always  _too_ serious, and Connie was... well.). "And?"

  "We're going to ruin this little prick like he ruined Bertholdt," Reiner's hand stopped stroking his boyfriend's shoulder, and curled into a tight fist at the nape of Bertholdt's neck, brow furrowing in determination and cold fury. "Are you spoiling for a fight?"

  "When am I not?" Jean snorted, and running through the tiny, absent corner of Reiner's mind was a banner of Eren's furious insult, instigated by an ungrounded quarrel between the two: 'Horseface'. Hot-headed and prone to physical methods of solving problems rather than through means of intelligence like his boyfriend Armin was wont to do, Eren would often jump headfirst into a fistfight. Especially when it was one based on injustice.

That gave Reiner an idea. "How about Eren?"

  "You can't be fucking serious."

  "He can hold his own in a fight."

  "You might as well call Mikasa," Jean grumbled, referring to Eren's taekwondo black-belt and aikido _jyūdansha_ -ranked adoptive sister. His hand slowly pumping Marco's cock, not caring if his captain heard the desperate whines of his horny lover. "She'd fucking clean the pavement with their faces."

The idea was highly appealing to the brawny blonde. "Sure. I'll go send her the invitation, too."

  " _Are you fucking kidding me?"_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it's short and not well-paced... I'm fighting off a twisted ankle (note to self: never run on uneven fields without wearing shoes) and a 38.2 degrees Celsius fever (100.76 degrees Farenheit). 
> 
> Next chapter will be more on the revenge part. As for the smut... I glossed over it, yes... but we'll get there *huge, indiscreet fujoshi winking*
> 
> P.S.: who likes orgies (jeanmarcoreibert orgies, to be specific)


	23. Payback's A Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner plans on giving Daz exactly what he deserves.

Daz Veblane was having a bad day.

Charlene was giving him the cold shoulder after he had to cancel last night's date in favour of extra training; the football team had caught wind of the rumours that Trost High's football captain was the boyfriend of the same guy Daz had ousted for his sexual orientation; to top it all of, he'd been relegated to second-string since his errors had resulted in the loss of the basketball's chance at county championships. 

When Bertholdt Fubar had confessed to him that the former first-string point guard was not only gay but had feelings for Daz, he'd seized the opportunity without hesitation. Bertholdt Fubar was Daz's mentor on the basketball team, and despite the chummy act of playing his friend, Daz despised the six-foot-two senior. He was such a pathetic pushover, all eagerness to please and unfairly talented. Where Daz had to struggle to get better at the game, Bertholdt made it all look so effortless.

So he told everyone about Bertholdt's homosexuality, and led the charge in making Bertholdt Fubar a social leper.

He'd assumed his high school life would be gold from there on out: he started dating Charlene, Bertholdt's ex-girlfriend, and supplanted his position on the basketball team. He thought it was all set in stone.

Then Bertholdt just  _had_ to be the boyfriend of Reiner Braun, the captain of Trost High's football team and kingpin of Titan Academy's defeat, making that loss their last game of the season. It was the last chance at championships for Titan Academy's football team for the seniors before they graduated. For some warped reason, the seniors had decided that it was indirectly Daz's fault that they lost.

Their reasoning was that if Daz hadn't forced Bertholdt out of Titan Academy and into the arms of Trost High's football captain, they wouldn't have lost so badly and so shamefully in front of college scouts. Now they had zero prospects of going to a good college, and needing someone to blame, they picked Daz.

That was nearly two weeks ago, and Daz's supposedly golden life had been going steadily downhill. Even now as he tried to evade the football seniors by leaving school early, they were practically lying in wait for him.

  "Hey, shithead," Enil Dok straightened when he caught sight of him, and his mouth curved in a bitter grin. He was the captain of the football team, and it showed in his dominance over the rest of the team. "Thought you could avoid us by skipping class, huh?"

 _Yes_ , Daz silently admitted, his heart sinking as the seniors of the football team followed him down the steps towards the flag yard. He braced himself for the shoving and debasing slaps that were bound to come, then pulled up short as a flashy red Jeep caught his eye as it was parallel parking itself across the street.

An exceedingly familiar blonde with the build of a pro wrestler climbed out of the driver's side, and seemed to lean through the window to talk to someone in the passenger seat. Then he walked into the bakery that he'd parked the Jeep in front of, and Daz got a clear view of who was riding shotgun.

  "Isn't that...?" Enil squinted at the red Jeep, too lurid to _not_ be noticed.

It was Reiner Braun, and looking increasingly nervous with every passing second in the passenger seat was Bertholdt Fubar.

  "What the hell," Daz felt his tension dissolve into surprised smugness. "Look who it is."

  "Count yourself lucky, Veblane," Enil shoved Daz aside, eyes glittering with malice as he headed towards the Jeep. "Looks like Reiner Braun just saved your ass from another whipping."

The seniors marched towards the Jeep, and Daz trailed after, not willing to be deprived of the entertainment that was likely to ensue.

The street was fairly empty, seeing as school had a one and half more hours before letting students out properly. Enil led the seniors across the road, and leaned an elbow on the sill of the driver's window.

  "We meet again, ass-fucker," Enil smirked, enjoying the sheer terror that shadowed Bertholdt's blanching features. "Back for more, I assume?"

Bertholdt squirmed away from Enil, and Daz didn't need a clear view to know that his ex-mentor was sweating buckets. The fear he emanated was practically palpable, and he was redolent of distress. It brought a small predatory thrill into his gut, and Daz could tell that Enil and the other seniors felt the same. They were on the same page, for now.

  "Say something," Enil taunted. "Dick got your throat? I heard it's the other team's captain's cock you've got filling your ass. Or was that not enough for you?"

Bertholdt gulped visibly, and counted down from thirty like Reiner had told him, to keep the anxiety attack at bay.  _Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six, twenty-five..._

 "Can I help you with something?" Bertholdt sighed, feeling the iron weight of his panic ease off his chest, breathing easier when he heard the icy voice.

Enil eased off the windowsill, and quickly hid the flicker of apprehension that crossed his face when the intimidatingly muscular blonde reappeared, carrying a paper bag with a French loaf sticking out of it.

  "Well, well," Enil drawled, his voice only trembling the slightest bit, barely noticeable unless you were looking for a sign that it was just bravado. "I should be asking you that, since you're on  _our_ turf."

  "They sell orgasmic bread here," Reiner shrugged, too comfortably casual for Enil's liking. It was like watching a Mexican standoff.

  "What, you going to shove it up Bertholdt's ass, since yours isn't satisfying him?" Enil sneered.

  "You know," Reiner passed the paper bag to Bertholdt, and crossed his arms, flexing his biceps dauntingly. "For a bunch of homophobes, you dipshits sure know an awful lot about how gays have sex. You sure you're all aboard the Straight Train? Or would you like a test drive?"

Enil snarled, and Reiner just smiled, baring his teeth.

  "Now, now," the blonde held up his hands before Enil could lunge at him. "You sure you want to pick a fight? Here, now?"

  "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," Enil growled.

  "Well, you wouldn't want to be caught fighting over a gay dude with a gay dude in front of your school, would you? I wonder what kind of reputation you'd have after that."

Enil snarled again, but acquiesced to Reiner's logic. "Fine. Follow me."

Reiner shrugged. "Why should I?"

  "What, too pussy to fight me?" Enil curled his lip at Reiner.

  "As I recall," Reiner slanted Enil a condescending smile. "it was your team that lost to mine just a little over a week ago."

  "Yeah, but where's your team now?" Enil sniggered. "You're all talk without them."

  "Who says I'm here without them?" Reiner's voice took on a challenging edge, and he raised his fist. Enil shirked from what he expected to be a blow, but that wasn't what Reiner was doing. It was a signal.

The nondescript silver XC60 that had been inconspicuously parked behind Reiner's Jeep let out two guys and one girl. Their faces were drawn in grim anticipation of a fight, one that they were looking forward to.

  "You brought a girl to fight your battles?" the Titan Academy's football captain snorted. "What, does the calvary have a hangover?"

  "And you wouldn't, seeing you have no wins to celebrate," Enil recognised the vice-captain by his odd two-toned hair, and he bristled at the jibe. 

Reiner just gave a shit-eating grin. "Still eager to pick a fight?"

* * *

 

The resounding crack of bone on bone had never been quite so satisfying (excepting that time when Reiner managed to bloody up Djel Fubar's face, but even that had not been a full expenditure of his rage) as now.

Jean quickly disposed of the two senior linebackers (one had managed a lucky hit, and his stomach ached from the blow it'd received), and Eren was still pounding his pent-up rage from the last game into the centre who fouled him, yelling vulgarities as he turned the guy's face into a bloody mess. Mikasa, on the other hand, didn't exactly wipe the floors with their faces, but she might as well have. She struck the fullback down in less than two moves, interrupting his disdainful declaration that he didn't hit girls unless they were into that shit.  

Meanwhile, Reiner didn't care much for Enil, and merely knocked him out with a solid right hook. He was more interested in Daz's blood.

He rounded on the boy, who hadn't expected to see his seniors so disgracefully defeated, and cowered behind the pipe running up the wall of the alley. His eyes widened as Reiner approached him, and he began to step back for every step Reiner took towards him.

  "Wh-what do you want?" Daz barely managed to stop himself from whimpering. He loathed himself for sounding so pathetic, but who wouldn't in the face of such a formidable threat?

Reiner rolled his shoulders, and snarled. "Payback."

Thirty minutes later, Titan Academy let out its students only to have them crowd in the flag yard in a commotion. The school flag was removed, and in its place was a stark naked Daz, bound and gagged with a French loaf shoved halfway up his ass. At the base of the flag pole were the senior members of the football team, wearing their birthday suits like Daz and completely unconscious, toting bruises and looking worse for wear. The teachers came spilling out of the school shortly thereafter, and kicked up a huge fuss, demanding who the perpetrators were. If they were smart, Daz and the football seniors would at least try to keep a shred of their dignity intact by refusing to tell how they'd gotten their asses handed to them by three gays and a girl.

Reiner took a photo from where he sat in his Jeep, guffawing harder than was probably appropriate while Bertholdt had his first good laugh in what felt like years. It was catharsis, and Reiner had given it to him.  Now that he was sitting from a clearer perspective, it was hard to see why Berholdts had ever imagined himself in love in someone as weak and feeble as Daz. But he had to thank him, nevertheless.

If Daz hadn't been such a jerk, Bertholdt would never have found his sanctuary in Reiner and his friends like Marco. He would never have understood how all-encompassing and wholly beautiful love could be.

He would never be as happy as he was now.

And when he told Reiner exactly that, the blonde kissed him brainless, and said he was inclined to agree. It was probably the only thing that had stopped him from carving up Daz, and setting the school on fire with Molotov cocktails (he'd even prepared the lighters and the bottles of alcohol, and Bertholdt wisely kept it out of reach). The blonde admitted that he still wanted to eviscerate everyone who had contributed to making Bertholdt miserable, but it was  _because_ of them that Bertholdt had found his way to Reiner.

As farcical as it might have sounded to anyone else, Bertholdt and Reiner agreed that yes, it was a necessary evil that had brought them together. And they were thankful for it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it wasn't as cathartic as you wanted! I've been struggling to think a proper way out of revenge, but if Reiner had done serious damage, he wouldn't be let off so easily, and I wanted to avoid that.


	24. Never Fear Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three and a half months later.

Reiner had half a mind to forgo the prom altogether and just whisk Bertholdt away into his room so he could fuck his boyfriend in the suit he was wearing.

Annie had taken Bertholdt shopping for it, and since standard-issue wasn't going to fit his six-foot-two stature, they wound up having to go to a tailor. There, they could choose exactly what shade and type of material would be used to make his suit. After much debate between mother and son (with some text messaged input from Reiner), they settled on a navy tuxedo with a black bow tie.

And because Bertholdt refused to let Reiner see him in a tux until the night of the prom itself, Reiner had been fantasising madly for weeks. So the blonde naturally felt that his acute desire to skip prom in favour of crazy suit sex was perfectly justified.

He conveyed the message as much by groping Bertholdt's ass while Annie and his parents took a million photos a minute, eager to capture their boys' first and last high school prom, and encapsulate their moment of hard-earned happiness. The taller boy barely suppressed a startled squeal when his boyfriend's warm hand fully encompassed half his ass.

  "Reiner!" Bertholdt hissed, elbowing Reiner lightly while his face turned the same hue as a tomato. "Stop it!"

  "Come on," Reiner grumbled.

  "Behave for the next few hours," Bertholdt begged, wanting to have a good prom (his first and likely last) with Reiner, a memorable and romantic one. Having spent months studying for finals and college exams, neither boy had time to spare for any dates or cuddles. Even having sex was hard to come by, since both were usually exhausted from hours of cramming. They usually wound up sleeping in each other's arms, legs entangled and the sheets interweaved with their limbs, their youthful sex drive braked by fatigue.

  "What do I get in return?" Reiner murmured, lips brushing the lobe of the taller boy's ear. Bertholdt shuddered, and prayed to every higher power in existence that he did  _not_ get a boner right now, with his mother and Reiner's parents photographing their every move. That would be downright mortifying.

  "Anything," Bertholdt whimpered, struggling hard not to squirm. "Just... behave, please?"

  "Anything?" Reiner teased, keeping his voice low so their oblivious parental units would not hear their less-than-innocent conversation.

  "Yes," Bertholdt groaned quietly. He didn't need to look down to know he had a semi-erection, and by the smirk on Reiner's face, it was slightly obvious. "Damn it, Reiner."

  "I'll take care of you later," Reiner promised.

  "The black stretchy car's here!" Tomas shouted, bouncing on the window ledge where he'd been appointed to be the lookout for the hired limo.

Berwick clambered onto the ledge, eager to see. The recently crowned eleven-year old let out a crow of delight as the first person to tumble out of the limousine was a boy about the same age as himself, wearing unusually casual garb for someone riding a limousine. In fact, he was wearing a T-shirt declaring that Deadpool's common sense was tingling, and pajama bottoms with ducky prints.

  "Kie!" Berwick fairly shrieked, practically tripping over his own feet in a bid for the front door.

The miniature Marco launched himself at the miniature raven-haired Reiner, and both made the excitable noises of best friends that had been separated for years and years. Reiner managed not to snort too loudly when Berwick planted a huge smacking kiss on Kie's mouth, and Marco's little brother returned the favour. Bertholdt was stunned, and turned to see Reiner's parents for a reaction, amused to see them utterly resigned.

  "Hey," Jean led Marco through the front door, a backpack with anime designs on it slung over his shoulder. It was utterly incongruous with his slate gray tuxedo and skinny black tie. Marco, on the other hand, was wearing a black lapelled tux with a wine red bow-tie, his empty right sleeve pinned to his shoulder. Instead of his usual eyepatch, a corsage of scarlet roses covered his missing right eye.

  "Looking good," Reiner bumped Jean's fist and kissed Marco's cheek by way of greeting.

  "Could say the same for you two," Jean eyed Reiner's perfectly-fitted traditional black suit and Bertholdt's navy tux, giving the the brawny blonde a knowing smirk. Reiner winked back at him, sliding an equally meaningful glance at Jean's boyfriend, who was crouched by Berwick and Kie.

  "Behave, okay?" Marco told Kie sternly.

Kie made his brown eyes as wide and innocent as possible. "When do I not?"

  "No staying up past ten," Marco now directed this instruction to both Berwick and Kie, knowing full well from past experience that when they had sleepovers, they wouldn't even think about sleep until 2 in the morning.

  "Boo," Berwick pouted.

  "Listen to Marco, brat," Jean ruffled Berwick's hair, and the eleven-year old scowled at him.

  "No snogging," Marco grimaced.

  "Save that for sweet sixteen," Jean grinned as the recollection of the age evoked nostalgic memories. First date, first kiss, first night together... Marco's elbow in his ribs quickly cut short the ride along memory lane.

  "Come on, you bastards," Reiner hollered, already halfway out the door. "Fashionably late is all very well, but if we keep this up, we'll miss it entirely."

  "One last shot!" Mrs. Braun clamoured, fussing with her camera. "All four of you, together now."

  "Mo- _om_ ," Reiner groaned.

  "I don't get the chance to see you all dressed up like this all the time," Mrs. Braun tutted. "Hurry up! Together!"

Reiner sighed, shrugging his shoulders at Jean as if to say ' _what are you going to do about it?'._ They squeezed together, Jean and Reiner standing side by side, their arms around the waists of their boyfriends.

  "Kiss!" Berwick and Kie shouted, and Tomas echoing their urging.

The two blondes laughed, and just as Mrs. Braun's finger pressed the button, they gave their respective boyfriends exaggeratedly loud smooches on their cheeks. It made an adorable picture, the two blondes all teasing affection and the two darker-haired teens blushing and squirming in delighted embarrassment.

  "Is there a curfew?" Reiner called over his shoulder, herding the other three out before his mother could insist on another picture.

  "Is there any point in making one?" Mr. Braun arched an eyebrow.

Reiner just chuckled.

* * *

Since it was Krista who oversaw the decor for the prom, it was notably easy on the eyes. No garish colours or ear-poppingly loud music, just the school colours adorning the gymnasium in streamers and balloons, while the DJ churned out the most recent hits and remixes. Couples gyrated to the beat, while the less enthusiastic clung to the walls and toyed glumly with balloons.

  "Wow," Jean said wryly, brushing confetti out of his hair. He'd tried to slick it back as an extra measure to go with the formality of his suit, but Marco had just burst out laughing, claiming he looked like he was wearing a helmet and mussing it up for him. "Looks like some people forgot what a party's supposed to be like."

  "Don't be mean," Marco nudged Jean chidingly.

Armin and Eren emerged from the dance floor, flushed and stars in their eyes. Reiner whispered to Jean that they had probably done more than just dance, and the former vice-captain sniggered.

  " 'sup," Eren bumped Reiner's fist, and gave Jean a smirk. "Nice bridle."

  "Stuff it where the sun doesn't shine, Jaeger," Jean rolled his eyes. "Can't believe I'm stuck with you for four more years."

Eren, Jean and Reiner had been accepted into USC on football scholarships. Jean and Eren might complain about how it rankled, but Reiner knew the pair's competitive dislike of each other was their idea of friendship, and they would take a bullet for each other even if they'd never admit it while they were still alive. On the other hand, Marco and Bertholdt had managed to get into UC Berkeley, just 346 miles away from Jean and Reiner. Armin's grandfather refused to let his potential go unfulfilled, and he'd no choice but to accept Brown's offer. That meant Eren and Armin would have to do a long-distance relationship, separated by a good 45 hours drive, depending on traffic conditions. It was destined to be hard, but they were determined to make it work.

As luck would have it, Nene was enrolling in USC to study nutrition and dietetics. Levi had Erwin send a letter of recommendation for all three boys and Nene to the headmaster at USC, who happened to be a close friend of his and Erwin's. Dot Pixis held Erwin's approval in high regard, and offered the three boys scholarships, after receiving additional recommendation from the scouts that had been present at their last game against Titan Academy. Nene did not receive a scholarship, only the offer, since she wasn't actually playing  _on_ the team. But she was content, and just as excited as she looked now, resplendent in a strapless sky blue cocktail gown with a tulle skirt, silver sequinned bodice and a sweetheart bias.

  "Dance with me, burrito!" she laughed, dragging Bertholdt onto the dance floor.

  "First dance is mine, Nene," Reiner reminded the petite girl, and kissed her forehead with more brotherly affection than he'd ever shown his own petulant and self-obssessed little sister.

  "No fun," the Japanese beauty pouted.

  "Go make someone's heart race with fruitless hope," Jean waved a hand at the wallflowers, knowing that if Nene invited any of them onto the dance floor, they'd surely begin to fantasise about their chances of having a relationship with her. She might as well ignore them entirely for all the realism behind those fantasies.

  "Maybe," Nene conceded. Then she grinned. "I spiked the punch. Have fun, dorks!"

  "Someone should really put a leash on her," Jean muttered, seconds after she'd darted away to dance with some pasty-skinned wallflower in a tux that looked like he'd stolen it from the costume wardrobe of 70s musical. "Poor guy. She'll break his heart like an egg."

Reiner snorted, and taking Bertholdt's hand, led the awkward giant towards the dance floor where the blonde guided him in the simple dance steps to a four-beat song.

Six songs and three cups of spiked punch later, Bertholdt was considerably less self-conscious, and even let Reiner French him outside the boy's bathroom, in full view of everyone who bothered to look.

  "Okay, time to announce Prom King and Queen!" Ymir half-yelled over the microphone. "Listen up, losers!"

Reiner winced, his make-out session with Bertholdt temporarily put on hold to pay attention to the petite blonde taking the microphone.

  "Prom King is... Reiner Braun!" Krista declared, reading the pink envelope in her tiny gloved hands.

Everyone clapped and cheered, hollering their approval. Reiner gave Bertholdt a quick kiss, telling him to stay right there before bounding onstage, keen on just getting the King and Queen dance done and over with, so he could go back to tongue-twisting his boyfriend. Oblivious to his actual intentions behind his enthusiastic demeanour, Krista beamed as she settled the plastic crown on Reiner's head. Then Ymir handed the mic again, and she announced Prom Queen: "Nene Kantoku!"

The muscular blonde was unsurprised by the news, since Nene and Reiner had been rumoured to date back in sophomore year, before Reiner came out. It was, of course, total bullshit but that didn't stop people from discussing how cute a couple they'd be. Reiner glanced in Bertholdt's direction, wanting to reassure him, but it was an unnecessary gesture. Jean and Marco had pre-empted the outcome, and taken up supportive positions near the gentle giant. Jean was whispering something to Bertholdt, Marco nodding in affirmation. A look of understanding dawned on Bertholdt's pink face, and he grinned shyly at Reiner when he noticed the blonde staring in concern.

  "Time for the King and Queen to dance!" Ymir shouted gleefully, and shoved a newly-crowned and partly-drunk Nene onto the dance floor. She stumbled, clinging to Reiner's lapel for support and giggled madly about 'weiners' and 'burrit-holes'.

Thankfully, a drunk Nene was a lot easier to get away from and he quickly returned to Bertholdt's side, yearning to cuddle with the blushing teen.

  "Hey, your Highness," Bertholdt had gained more cheeky pluck in the recent days, something Reiner attributed to Marco's influence, since the two spent most study periods together. "Nice crown."

  "Like it?" Reiner murmured, lips a hair's breadth away from Bertholdt's. The darker-haired youth groaned as the blonde wickedly ground his hips against his crotch, and his knees nearly buckled at the erotic touch. This was foul play, but to be completely honest and fair... he was less patient and enduring than Reiner gave him credit to be.

  "Reiner," Bertholdt whined. "It's been two hours."

The blonde merely grinned. "I thought you said 'a few hours'."

  " _Reiner_."

Laughing, Reiner scooped Bertholdt up into his arms, carrying him into an empty bathroom stall. There were unsubtle noises of other couples getting it on in the stalls on either side of them, but all they could sense was each other.

  "You're so fucking gorgeous, you know that?" Reiner said breathlessly, mouthing Bertholdt's neck and his fingers roaming, exploring the dimensions of his suit. It took half a minute for Reiner to figure out how it came off, and another half a minute to decide he'd rather fuck Bertholdt in the suit. How often would he get to see his boyfriend so dressed up and  _then_ get to have his way with him?

He yanked Bertholdt's pants down around his knees, propping the taller boy on the edge of the toilet seat before going on his own knees and cupping the balls of Bertholdt's dick.

The taller boy fairly whimpered, and positively keened when the blonde engulfed his erection in his own mouth. Reiner heard the response, felt the tremor of sexual pleasure under the palms he'd used to spread Bertholdt's thighs, and licked the underside of the gentle giant's cock. It was little too long to deep throat without asphyxiating, but he could make up for it. His cheeks hollowed and his cheekbones jutted out prominently as he  _sucked_ Bertholdt into oblivion.

The taste of his boyfriend's pre-come was musky and alluring and salty, and Reiner decided to torment Bertholdt a little. He attentively and skilfully treated the brunette's erection to a mind-blowing level, and just as Bertholdt gasped that he was going to come, he pulled off, smacking his lips together in a purely roguish expression.

  "Reiner," Bertholdt mewled. "I was so close..."

  "You said I could do anything I wanted, right?" Reiner grazed his lips over Bertholdt's and his right hand dipped down past the swollen dick to brush an index finger over the tight hole that Reiner was intent on plugging with his own growing erection. Just the feather-light touch proved too much for Bertholdt, on the verge of coming and that slightest contact sent him over the edge. He came, thick white ropes splattering the chest of Reiner's suit.

  "You've messed up my outfit," Reiner scolded with a smirk, pushing his finger past the rigid ring of muscle and pushing it all the way in to the knuckle. "I should just leave you here and go home."

  "Don't you dare," Bertholdt lurched forward to grab Reiner by the shoulders, and let out a low, guttural moan as he unwittingly fucked himself on Reiner's index finger. "Oh, crap."

  "Can't wait for my cock in you, huh?" Reiner leered, slipping in a second finger, curling it down to scrape at Berholdt's prostrate, knowing exactly where it was despite weeks of abstinence. "Shameless."

  "Ugh-- _haah!"_ Bertholdt yelped and fisted the sleeves of Reiner's tuxedo when the blonde scissored his fingers inside him without warning. The brutal, unanticipated widening of his ass and the pressure on his prostrate was engendering another erection, and he whimpered at the coil of desire building up in his abdomen.

  " _Shh_ ," Reiner hushed his sweating, adorable boyfriend. He silenced the boy's mewls with a hard kiss, and as he distracted him, he quickly slipped in a third finger. It proved too much for Bertholdt, who broke away and cried out in sheer lust for his blond boyfriend dick.

  "Reiner, enough," Bertholdt panted. "Want... _need..."_

"Need what?" Reiner asked pleasantly, playing ignorant as he fucked Bertholdt with three fingers.

  "Cock," Bertholdt's voice was muffled as he buried his face in Reiner's shoulder, hunched over the toilet seat and unconsciously grinding down on Reiner's digits, yearning for more. "Yours."

Reiner smiled, and kissed the brunette's crown with the same gentle affection he'd show in cuddling, rather than fucking in the school bathroom. "Are you sure you're ready? You're still pretty tight. We haven't--"

  "Just do it," Bertholdt whined. "I don't care if it hurts. I  _need_ your cock inside me."

The blonde felt a surge of pride, intermingled with libido. The Bertholdt from three months ago wouldn't even have thought of making such erotic demands, much less let them leave his lips. Reiner took it as a sign that the dark-haired boy was gaining confidence and comfort with his own sexuality, no longer timid and frightened by it. He no longer flinched when people mentioned words like 'fag' and 'homo' within hearing range, and was even acclimatising (albeit reluctantly and with leaden steps) to the notion that nobody in Trost High meant it as an insult.

  "Tell me if it hurts," Reiner whispered, and lifting the six-foot-two boy in his arms, he held him by his waist and ass and slowly, carefully lowered his hole onto his own burgeoning cock. "I don't want to hurt you."

  "It doesn't-- _ah!_ \--hurt," Bertholdt reassured, gasping as the head of Reiner's cock slipped inside his entrance. "I know you won't hurt me."

The darker-haired boy's reassurance eased Reiner's apprehension, and he gently slid inside Bertholdt until he was balls-deep. The unhurried penetration made Bertholdt mewl and whimper and writhe, until he couldn't suppress the tight sensation in his groin and came again from just taking it up in the ass, ejaculating on Reiner's shirt and his own.

  "Yes," Reiner smiled crookedly with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and began to snap his hips upwards, thrusting until Bertholdt was a shivering, hot mess. The dark-haired giant gasped Reiner's name like a prayer, his vision tunnelling as the blonde repeatedly rammed up into his prostrate. He clamped down tightly on Reiner like a reflex, and the ex-football captain groaned--

  "Jean, is that you?"

Reiner stopped mid-thrust, eliciting a plaintive whimper from Bertholdt, and wrinkled his brow. The voice came from the stall on his right...Eren? What the--"

  "Fuck off, Jaeger. That's not me." that came from the stall on his left, and Reiner began to chuckle as he realised what was going on.

  "I knew I should have taken Bertholdt home instead," Reiner drawled, mirth highlighting his voice.

  "What the fuck, Reiner!" Eren complained. "I thought you were Jean."

A low keening came from the stall on Reiner's left, followed by Jean's breathless challenge. "I don't know, Eren. I could hear Burrito making sex-tape worthy noises, but I can't hear Armin feeling good. Guess that must mean your cock's not satisfying enough, huh?"

  " _Jean!"_ a mortified whisper Reiner recognised as Marco's made the sinewy blonde snort.

  "Oh yeah?" Eren snarled, and the slick slapping noise of skin against skin could be heard, followed by Armin's breathless mewling.

  "Eren-- _ngh!_ \-- slow-- _ngh!--_ down!"was Armin's stuttered plea.

  "How's that for sex-tape worthy, Horseface?" Eren taunted.

  "Doesn't sound like Armin's having that much fun," Jean snickered. "Take a cue from this--"

Reiner rolled his eyes. "Will the both of you just shut the fuck up?" 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at sex scenes, in case none of you have figured it out. (DID YOU KNOW IVY LEAGUE SCHOOLS DON'T OFFER SPORTS SCHOLARSHIPS)
> 
> EDIT: the bathroom sex with JeanMarco and Eremin on either side was all thanks to the lovely and hilarious idea of HARUBI!


	25. Sharks In The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trip~! (EPILOGUE)

After a vote was taken on graduation night (where the antics induced by the excessive consumption of alcohol ensued), it was unanimously agreed that the gang would hit the beach for their graduation road trip. Connie and Sasha decided to skip out on going in favour of a ski trip with their families, and Nene was going to join them on the second day when her period was finished ("Aw, come on, Nene! Not when we're  _eating!"_  "Well, too bad. You asked.")

Since Jean's Volvo was meant to fit two adults and five children comfortably rather than six teenagers and their individual four-day luggages, it was understandably cramped. But no one was really complaining, because they were all too busy singing along to the radio (off-key, of course) or snoring with their legs entangled amongst duffel bags and carry-on sized suitcases. Reiner and Jean took turns to make the eight hour drive to Sebastian Inlet, making pit-stops along the way for potty breaks or to pick up more snacks at the petrol stations. It quickly became clear that you  _could_ barf from eating five Mars bars in one sitting ("if you toss your cookies on the floor of my car, I will literally drown you in your own puke.  _Capeesh?"_ ) and yes, there were still traffic cops who would make you pull over if you bumped up past the speed limit ("there isn't anyone else on the road!") on the highway. By the time they caught sight of the beach in the distance, Eren was positively green from accepting one too many food challenges and Reiner had accumulated a high score of four speeding tickets.

  "Finally!" Jean parked his Volvo and killed the engine. "Get out, you losers!"

Everyone cheered and tumbled out like hyperactive puppies, despite being incredibly lethargic after the long journey. They each sought for their own lovers: Bertholdt gravitated into Reiner's arms, Jean slung his arm around Marco's shoulders, Eren's fingers interweaved with Armin's as they all stood there for a moment, savouring the salty sea breeze and the picturesque landscape before them. There were others on the beach, not a lot but still the average number you'd expect to see at one of the more famous natural beaches. White sand sloped down into clear turquoise waters, crested by ivory foam. All you could hear was the rhythmic crashing of waves on the shore and the rustling of the breeze in your ear. Not a bleep of traffic, or a whiff of carbon monoxide. Just pure, scenic beauty.

  "It's amazing," Bertholdt breathed, lifting his chin to let the wind comb its airy fingers through his hair.

  "Mmhmm," Reiner agreed, looking at a beatific Bertholdt and smiling like a fool.

  "Check those waves out!" Jean crowed, pumping a fist in the air.

  "Bet you twenty you wipe out first," Eren challenged, unstrapping his board from the roof of Jean's car.

  "Thirty," Jean narrowed his eyes, grabbing his own board. "Reiner, you want in on this?"

  "You guys are infantile," Reiner groaned.

  "Stop using SAT words," Jean grunted, hefting the board under his arm. "It doesn't suit you."

  "It's not an SAT word," Reiner smirked as he took his own board down. It hadn't been used in at least two years, and it could do with some waxing. "Did anyone bring--"

  "Here," Eren pre-empted the request and tossed him the board wax. "Don't use it all up."

Bertholdt stared at the green and gold surfboard Reiner tended to, fascinated. He hadn't known that Reiner surfed until six this morning, when the blonde took it out of the garage to strap it to the roof of Jean's car.

  "Hold up," Jean raised a hand, grinning roguishly as he scanned the beach for lifeguards. There weren't any. "Before we start..."

  "Don't you dare back out now," Eren warned.

  "Hell no," Jean snorted. "Just clearing some space first. Marco, do the honours?"

The freckled boy laughed, and took out an oddly-shaped object wrapped in a plastic bag from his duffel bag. Jean stripped down to his board shorts and helped his handicapped boyfriend do the same.

  "Be right back," the former vice-captain grabbed Marco's hand and ran down to the water, calling over his shoulder.

  "What the...?" Reiner squinted as Marco unwrapped the object and passed it to Jean, who dove underwater with it. Marco followed shortly after, and the others just stood there, wondering what the hell was going on.

Twelve heartbeats later, the unmistakable dorsal fin of a shark broke the surface of the water and Marco emerged, staggering onto the shore and shouting: "Shark! Shark!"

The sight of the shark's fin was frightening enough, but coupled with the evidently mangled boy, it was downright terrifying. Surfers cleared out of the water, striking out for land in a panic as the shark appeared to circle towards them. In their hysteria, they didn't notice Marco cackling madly, nor the shark disappearing to reveal a boy with bicolored hair treading water, a megalomanic grin on his face. Thanks to their ridiculous stunt, the waves were free for Reiner, Jean and Eren's bet.

  "What the fuck," Reiner convulsed with laughter, tears of mirth escaping the corners of his eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me? A shark attack?"

Bertholdt chuckled, a smile crinkling his eyes as he watched Jean swept Marco into his arms and ran up the shore towards them.

  "That," Eren gasped, doubled over in exhilaration. "was awesome."

  "Damn right it was," Jean gently set Marco on his feet and shook his head like a wet dog, sending water flying.

  "Can't believe you did that," Armin marvelled. "Whose idea was it?"

  "Mostly Jean's," Marco smiled from ear to ear, and kissed Jean's cheek. "We were watching a shark attack documentary the other day."

  "One of the victims lost his arm like Marco, so I figured..." Jean shrugged.

  "Better make use of our window of opportunity before the other surfers realise they've been duped," Reiner warned, grabbing his board. "Come on!"

* * *

  "Hey, babe," Reiner was sopping wet and dripping all over the towel Bertholdt had spread on the sand, but the taller boy didn't mind because he was too busy admiring the blonde's chiselled body. "What did you think?"

  "You looked so cool," Bertholdt smiled as the blonde leaned down to give him a salty kiss.

  "Still got wiped out first," Reiner groaned as he manoeuvred his stiff body into a sitting position beside Bertholdt. "I swear they cheated."

Jean and Eren were still sitting astride their boards, waiting for a good one. They were shoving each other good-naturedly, trying to topple the other into the water.

  "Do those two ever let up?" Bertholdt asked wonderingly.

  "They've been at it since 7th grade," Reiner towelled himself off and lay on his back. "Not a training session went by that I didn't hear at least one insult being tossed across the field or gym."

  "Must be nice," Bertholdt said wistfully. "having a friendship like that."

  "Don't ever say that in front of them," Reiner chuckled. "You'll start World War Three. Now lie down with me."

Bertholdt curled up against Reiner's damp yet warm body, burrowing his nose into the brawny blonde's shoulder and smiling widely. It still felt like sparklers going off wherever Reiner touched him, and fireworks exploding behind his eyelids whenever Reiner kissed him.

  "Where's Armin and Marco?" Reiner murmured, stroking Bertholdt's back.

  "Armin went to get more drinks," Bertholdt indicated the emptied cooler. "Marco decided to go terrorise some kids."

Reiner lifted his head, then snorted when he saw the freckled boy talking to a few sandcastle-building kids. Marco had a look of ominous foreboding on his disfigured face, and was gesturing to his missing arm. The blonde vaguely made out the word 'shark', and whatever Marco was saying elicited frightened shrieks from the adolescents.

  "He's getting a little carried away with the whole 'shark attack' thing," Bertholdt grimaced. "That's the third time he's trying to scam a bunch of kids."

  "Let him have his fun," Reiner laughed. "Not everyone can get off on making fun of their own disabilities and using it to scam kids."

Bertholdt made agreeable noises, and snuggled up against his boyfriend, letting his thoughts drift. Graduation day had been a flurry of forest green robes, incessant cheerings that only escalated when Armin unwittingly read out the valedictorian speech that had been secretly edited by Reiner and Eren, receiving their graduation certificates and being pulled into a steamy kiss when everyone tossed their hats into the air. It had been a balmy late May afternoon, not a stitch of a cloud in the robin egg-blue sky, and the sweetness of spring on the wind. His friends, the true kind that accepted him for all his shortcomings and still stuck up for him, surrounded him on all sides with mile-wide grins and exuberant whoops. It had been a bright, beautiful moment, and it was sealed in a glass frame on his nightstand at home.

Then later that evening, Reiner had taken him to a party at Ymir's house, where kegs were opened and Sasha was steadily working her way through the supply of junk food. Music was blasting out of speakers someone had plugged into a laptop, and graduates were either sprawled on the couches, playing juvenile games on the carpet (Spin the Bottle, Seven Minutes, you name it), or dancing in the living room. It had taken two plastic cups of beer for Bertholdt to loosen up, and a shot of vodka mixed with Sprite for the awkward giant to cheerfully volunteer details about Reiner's sex drive in a game of Truth or Dare. He spent the rest of the evening ensconced in his boyfriend's lap, head resting on Reiner's shoulder and smiling goofily for absolutely no reason while the blonde suggested the road trip, and destinations were discussed.

Even before he'd questioned his own sexuality, when he'd been a regular kid at Titan Academy, Bertholdt didn't recall ever having this much fun, or feeling so comfortable in his own skin. The contented peace that had settled over him like a second skin was precious, and he savoured it every day with Reiner. Despite having to go to different colleges, it was a fairly short drive to see each other, particularly because Bertholdt and Marco had decided to share an apartment rather than live in the dorms (not everyone was so understanding and accepting of homosexuals outside of Trost High, a piece of advice offered by Levi in less discreet terminology). The security provided by the knowledge that Reiner would never be out of reach was invaluable.

Bertholdt had not realised that he'd fallen asleep, and was slightly disconcerted to find that Reiner was not beside him. Instead, a fluffy beach towel and Reiner's jacket had been used to cover him like a blanket, and the blonde was currently engaged in the task of building a sandcastle (more like a sand dump) with two boys about Berwick's age.

Bertholdt squinted. _Is that...?_

  "Finally up, Sleeping Beauty?" Bertholdt shrieked as cold metal was pressed against his cheek, and he looked up to see Nene handing him a can of Coke.

  "I thought you were coming tomorrow," Bertholdt took it gratefully, and his voice was scratchy with sleep.

  "That's what I thought, too," Nene sat down beside him. "Then Mother Nature cut me a break, and in return I had to haul Kie and Berwick down here for a few days before Reiner's parents swing by and pick them up on their way to Disney's at Vero Beach."

 _Thought so_ , Bertholdt sighed, resigned. 

Nene smiled at his disappointment, quickly guessing the reason for it. "Don't worry. They'll be bunking in with me, so you two can go banging all you want."

  "Nene!" Bertholdt turned crimson. No matter how many times Nene made a sexual innuendo and clamoured to hear more about his sex life with Reiner (pestering Jean and Eren got boring in junior year, apparently, since they only ever had vanilla sex. Not that they'd tell her otherwise.), Bertholdt never got used to the idea that Nene was totally onboard the gay ship.

  "So," Nene ignored his flustered reaction and leaned back on her elbows, sunglasses pushed up on her head. "It's gorgeous here, huh?"

Most tourists were already packing up to leave, which left just the gang on the beach. Eren and Armin had fallen asleep on a beach towel nearby, Eren's jacket and towel thrown over them, but mostly covering Armin to shield the skinny blonde from the chilly wind. Jean and Marco weren't far off either, walking hand in hand down the shore in a moment of stolen serenity.  Bertholdt looked out to the sea, where the sun was painting the skies with ribbons of pink, purple and orange as it dipped below the horizon. It was low tide now, and smaller waves curved up to the shore, quieter, gentler. Birds dotted the tinted sky, flying home to roost. You couldn't feel anything other than tranquility right then and there.

Reiner looked up to grin at Bertholdt as Kie and Berwick got fed up with trying to build a sandcastle with just their hands and proceeded to jump on it as if it were a pile of fallen leaves. His silhouette was backlit by the sunset, and it made his hair turn a brilliant, vibrant gold to match his aureate eyes. This was the boy-- no, the man who had chosen Bertholdt time and time again, selflessly showering the traumatised boy with love and affection until he learned to love himself, to be okay with who he was. Reiner was his knight in shining armour, the other half of his heart, the air in his lungs. He was Bertholdt's.

  "Mm," Bertholdt agreed quietly, a smile tweaking the corners of his lips as he felt like all was right in the world. "It is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THINKING ABOUT DOING A COLLEGE AU BUT NEHHHH SHOULD I


End file.
